


His Winged Machine

by Sandentwins



Series: As the Golden Condor Flies [1]
Category: Taiyou no Ko Esteban | Les Mystérieuses Cités d'or | The Mysterious Cities of Gold
Genre: Gen, Golden Condor, Headcanon, Reincarnation, Spoilers, Transmutation, season 4 speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 00:04:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17518391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandentwins/pseuds/Sandentwins
Summary: Something really strange is happening to Esteban. Something foreign, and yet familiar.Although suddenly becoming the Golden Condor herself might be a bit more than just "really strange".





	1. Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place at some point after the end of Season 3, during a hypothetical Season 4.

Esteban doesn't remember how it happened. All he recalls is a sound, a flash, and the world suddenly collapsing around him.

It's hard to describe how he feels right now. He can't start picturing his feelings, the sensations on and around his body, it's just...it's just too hard. It's like a thick blanket had wrapped around him, and was now squeezing him tight while blocking everything from outside. He can't breathe. He can't see, he can't hear anything. He can't move.

There's a sound ringing to his ears, the high-pitched whistle of something ominous coming over. He's got a bad feeling, a horrible feeling about this. He doesn't like it. He _hates it!_ He wants it to stop, he wants to go home! Please, leave him alone!

He tries to move. To see where he is. But he can't. He can't move, he feels like he's paralyzed, like his body is out of his control. He tries to feel his hands, his legs, but they're nowhere to be found.

He starts to panic.

It's a strange sensation. It's like he's floating in a dream, and he cannot move, only following whatever fate his own mind wants him to follow. He's barely aware of his own state, and witnesses it more than he truly lives it. But the more time passes and the more he realizes this is not a dream, but a wide, engulfing nightmare that settles over him.

It's dark. He knows it is, and yet he cannot see it. Perhaps he's actually being engulfed in light, and he can't process it. Perhaps his eyes are definitely gone. It's impossible to know, and he's scared, and he can't help thinking about it. It doesn't hurt, but he doesn't know it. He's persuaded it hurts, even though he cannot feel it anymore.

He's scared. He's horribly scared. And slowly, amongst all of that fear and that nightmare, there is a feeling that rises. A feeling that screams and shouts, and begs and calls out.

_I don't want to die!_

~~~~~

He's not aware of himself, of where he is. He feels odd, but at the same time he doesn't feel. It's horribly strange. His body is nothing but a vague sensation.

He realizes he's in a dream of sorts, and he tries to regain control. To move his arms, to make a step, but he can't. He doesn't know where his arms are, yet he knows they're not where they're supposed to be. He doesn't like this feeling.

He recalls this strange element of dreams, where a person he doesn't know suddenly feels like a best friend; when a face that is foreign to him suddenly becomes his own. He figures it is something similar, that he feels this way only because he is still in the confines of a dream, where everything makes sense and everything is how his mind pictures it. He is not worried about it, he knows he will wake up at some point and that this reality will unfold and disappear. He does not worry. He needn't worry.

He tries to wake up. To realize he's in a dream, and to get out of it. To let this heavy feeling wash over him, to recover notions of gravity and pressure, to feel his body again.

And he does. He eventually does. Gravity applies to him again, and he slowly manages to feel it- but he feels it very much, _too much_ , and he becomes scared and he doesn't know what is going on, and- and-

And he knows where his arms are, and where his legs are, and it hits him like a bucket of cold water, and he jolts awake in a thrust of fear, and- he cannot see what is around him, he cannot hear anything, but he can sense something- he senses the warmth that settles over his back and arms, and makes him feel good and revitalized. He senses something hard under his feet, he senses the ground. He doesn't know whether he is lying down, standing or sitting, he is- he just is, he doesn't know about the details, he's not sure he can know. It feels all too strange and foreign for him to ever know, and perhaps he will never know at all.

The warmth spreads. It spreads through his whole body, and he starts to feel better. He can sense it move through him, like a fluid; he senses his own body as it goes on, he feels himself through the presence of this foreign but familiar warmth. It spreads from his exposed back, to the tip of his stretched fingers, pointing to his sides. It runs over his neck, and it takes much more time than he'd have thought, as if his neck had somehow doubled, tripled in length. He feels the nape of his neck, his slender cheeks, his nose that is much longer than he remembers. The warmth then spreads down his back, to his hips, and quickly travels down his legs, to feet that he knows are heavier than he recalls. He is confused, and thinks he is still in a dream; but the heat that settles within him is real, and it wakes him up even further.

He decides to ignore this feeling of doubt, and to carry on. He is in the process of waking up, and this is something that needs time. Slowly, the rest of his body comes to life, powered by this rising warmth, and he feels himself more in detail. He feels the force of his extended arms, the power and heaviness in his gut, the force stored in his lower back that only wants to emerge and burst out. He does not know how to feel about this, about this form that he does not recognize. He is still dreaming, he is not afraid; but he then hears voices, he senses things around him, and slowly he realizes that this is not a dream.

He recalls now. He was- his friends, himself were exploring, trying to find a clue leading to the fifth City of Gold; and something had gone wrong, and- and-

And he doesn't recall anymore. He cannot remember anything beyond this point, and he is worried. He tries to remember, to force himself to, but he can't. He can't, and he's worried. He tries to remember things from even before, but they seem to fade out of his grasp. Memories of things he's lived, names he's known, places he's been to seem to become more distant, more foreign to him, like the memories of a stranger that he's watching through his own mind eye. He doesn't like it.

The voices come back. Voices he knows; who do they belong to? He's sure he can remember- give him the time, he'll be able to, he promises…

There is another sensation that comes up; it is not visual, or sound, but he senses it. A signal that he recognizes, that he knows he must _obey_ to. Without thinking about it, he lowers his head, and opens his mouth, and stands still.

There are presences. There is someone with him- next to him- _inside_ of him, and he should be disgusted, but there is none of it. He is not able of disgust. Not anymore.

There is an itch at the back of his head. Some sort of feeling, as if someone was touching to a very specific part of his brain. And it made him jolt, it made him move, and his fingers stretch and his mouth closes and his head rises up and the warmth on his lower back gathers and builds up and suddenly it _bursts_ and before he knows it, he's moving, and he feels lighter than air, and- he's _flying_ , he's flying! He's as light as light itself, as the light he is made of, as the light that powers him, and this feeling suddenly comes back to mind, familiar and reassuring- and he realizes where he is, but his mind tells him that it's wrong; that it's not where he is, but _what_ he is. He knows this feeling, but it is much more intense than what he recalls, and that's when his senses awake and he knows where he is, and he becomes aware of what he is doing and for the first time since he woke up, he knows what is going on.

He's flying. He's flying like he used to, during his journeys in the Condor. But there is no steering shaft between his hands, there is no fabric pressing against his back, there is nothing for his feet to rest on. He is flying, but not in the way he is used to; and yet the speed, the height, the rush of emotions is the same, albeit much more intense than he is used to. And it feels familiar, as if he has always done this way.

He is not the pilot anymore. He has never felt this as a pilot, in all of his traveling life. Instead, he feels what his machine would feel. The more it makes sense to him, the more his mind awakes, and the more it feels like the truth.

Esteban has become the machine.

_I have become the Golden Condor._

__


	2. Voices

Esteban. A random orphan raised in Spain, taken along on a journey to the New World, revealed to be a chosen one whose goal was to find the seven Cities of Gold, descendant of the lost Kingdom of Atlantis, witness to so many incredible events and places…  


...was now a giant metal bird heading through the air at the speed of sound.  


Now, out of all the things that have happened to him in his life, this would definitely be up with the weirdest of all, by far. He couldn't make sense of why it happened, and how, and if he was truly awake at all.  


He's been up in the air for quite a while now. Once the initial shock had passed, the familiar sensation had quickly taken over him, and the pace of cruise flight had started to soothe his mind. The sudden surprise of this uncalled change had obviously taken him aback, and if he wanted to address what was happening to him, he first needed to calm down and ground down his restless spirit.  


There we go. Nice and calm. The air around him was fresh and windy, and the sun was warm. He was calm. Very good.  


Now…  


**_How in the name of all the Great Sages did this happen!?!_ **  


How!? How did his consciousness end up inhabiting the body of a giant orichalcum vehicle!? How in the world could such a thing even be possible?! What twisted mind had conjured this wicked plan, what evil spirit had made such an event ever happen!?! _What in the world was going on!??!?_  


Calm down, Esteban. Calm down. Freaking out will not get you anywhere. It's obviously a dream, or some sort of hallucination...yes, this had to be the explanation. How could his mind wander off from his squishy, fleshy body and suddenly be tied to the Golden Condor? Perhaps this wasn't even the real Golden Condor! This would all go away very soon, and he'd wake up in his old body, lost and disoriented but at least he'd be awake. Yes, this was the perfect plan. For now, he'd just have to go along with this dream, and do his best to not let it take over. He'd have to wake up sooner or later, right? Might as well enjoy it.  


And to his surprise, this was quite an enjoyable dream. He was flying, for goodness' sake! He was _flying!!_ A feeling he's only ever lived from the inside of the Condor's cockpit, but that he could now experience directly! He was as light as a feather, gliding through clouds and winds like a blade through Chinese silk, with nothing to stop him or hinder him in his course. There was no ground under his feet, only the caress of air currents under his ~~arms~~ wings and the warm sun on his back, powering him and filling him with energy and force.  


He didn't know how it happened, but...perhaps it wouldn't be so bad? He tried to imagine the rest of his life in the body of the Golden Condor. Always on the move, rising and landing with the sun, spending half of his time above clouds and the other sleeping soundly, waiting for the sun to rise. Never needing food or rest, simply following whatever the sun wanted him to do, whatever...whatever that _feeling_ in his brain was leading him to. It wouldn't be such a bad life...he could get used to it. Travel was in his blood, after all, and even if he was now empty of any blood, he wouldn't give up on his goal. He would still find the Cities of Gold, with the help of…  


Of…  


…oh great gods above. He's just realized what this feeling in his head was...or rather, _who_ it was.

~~~~~ 

Tao let out a sigh, head resting against the glass dome of the cockpit. The familiar vibration of the Condor made this posture just uncomfortable enough to not be held more than a couple seconds, so he resumed leaning back into his seat, eyes set on the horizon ahead of them. Contemplating the gloomy silence that had settled over their group, yet doing nothing to break it, out of fear or perhaps lack of a want to. Next to him, Zia was looking distraught, hands firmly clasped around the snake-shaped steering shaft. But she wouldn't say it, or even acknowledge it. As always, she was trying to focus on their duty, on their goal, and would leave no room for hesitation or feelings. But the dried path of tears on her cheeks reflected what her words refused to say, what her eyes didn't want to see. It has been very hard on all of them, but there was no doubt she was in pain the most, even if she claimed otherwise.  


It was difficult for them to not be be in pain. Even Mendoza, stern and composed as he usually was, couldn't help his chest from hurting, as if something was squeezing hard on his ribs. Where he would usually be with a smile, a wise word of guidance or a solemn scolding, he couldn't manage to bring out anything but a dark, resigned sorrow from within himself. Even if he tried to stifle these feelings, on account of how a man of his composure shouldn't be one to cry, it was becoming harder and harder with each passing second, with each thought that crossed through his head. Memories of happy smiles, childish words spoken in an eager voice, light footsteps trotting right behind him wouldn't stop coming back to mind, and they hurt like just as many stones thrown right at his stomach, making his throat queasy and his eyes watery. And yet, he was trying to ignore it, to grit his teeth through it like he's always done, and to be this solid figure everyone wanted him, _needed_ him to be.  


Yet it was hard to ignore the sniffles and whimpers still coming from right next to him. Huddled together like they were used to, Pedro and Sancho sounded like they were about done crying, but could start again at any moment now. In the silence of the cockpit, their saddened voices were the only ones still heard, unceasing cries and whines that would not end anytime soon, even though it has been hours since _it_ happened. Perhaps they would never end at all; but despite everything, it could be a good thing. The duo's continuous crying was voicing out what the rest of the team couldn't, or didn't want to voice. Had no one said or uttered anything at all, the complete silence would have driven them all insane. How cruel of fate to have played such a trick on them! How miserable they were that they could not even speak of it freely, express to one another how sad, how desperate, how _devastated_ they all were! But how could one say anything about such a happening? How to convey what they all truly felt? How to stay reasonable and calm, when all of their hearts combined were filled with such _grief_ , when a single word could mean the whole of them falling into tears and cries? How could this equipage of many cultures properly communicate to one another just how much they each were _mourning_?  


It was cruel. It was horribly cruel that such a thing had to happen to them. To their team, to their _trio_ , to everything they've ever done and lived together. Today, the crew of the Golden Condor has lost one of its members, and the spark of their quest has been blown off along with his life.  


They wanted to give up. They oh so wanted to give up, to abandon this quest that now had no more meaning to them. Why bother looking for the Cities of Gold, now that one of the chosen two was…gone? What was the purpose of all of this? They wanted to give up, and yet they couldn't; for they knew what would happen if they left Zares with any kind of head start on them. The clues they have found so far and that have been stolen from them would be enough to find the fifth City with enough further research, and even the...disappearance of one of their crew members would not stop that wicked alchemist from stealing the wonders of the City, and turning them into his weapons. Which meant they couldn't stop for anything; not even for rites.  


No one was seated on the bench opposite to Mendoza's. However, someone was lying there. Someone the rest refused to look at, if only in sheer denial.  


He was shrouded in a large cloth of white linen; the folds of the fabric showed his hands folded over his chest. His eyes had been closed, his wounds had been cleaned and tended to. If one were to peek underneath the cloth, he would simply appear as if he were asleep. But no one wanted to peek underneath, no one wanted to face it, no one wanted to face the truth: that he was _gone_ , that he was actually gone. He wasn't asleep, nor knocked unconscious, not even gravely ill; he was…he was…  


They couldn't say it. They couldn't speak the word; it brought them all a dreadful feeling, the cold realization that danger was real, that even an ancient Muan prophecy was not enough to save them from the real world. During the whole time their search for the Mysterious Cities of Gold had lasted, the three of them had felt like they were beyond mortal concerns. The two of them especially had felt this important status everyone gave them, this aura they had that everyone thought placed them above mortals. With time, perhaps they have started to believe it themselves. They kept discovering their potential, their abilities, their mythical roots as the journey kept going; they knew of their role, of how important, how crucial of gears they were in the great clockwork of this gilded heritage they kept finding during their peregrinations. They had a grand and noble mission to fulfill, a quest to complete, and nothing would stop them until they did it and triumphed. Nothing would be able to ever stop them.  


And then, _it_ happened. It happened, and they all got the cruel and sudden realization that no matter how powerful they liked to feel, they were but mortals in the end. And like any mortal, they had to meet their end someday. On this day, they all received this grim reminder that no prophecy or purpose could save them from the cold and merciless grasp of death.  


Out of the blue, Zia woke up from her trance, like one wakes up from a nightmare with a heart still beating astray. She felt lost and disoriented, but a quick glance reassured her of her surroundings: she was still in the Condor, piloting it towards the setting sun. Underneath the giant bird, the Egyptian desert still looked barren and empty; but a faint patch of green in the distance seemed to let the meager vegetation of an oasis show. She welcomed this sight with relief; it has been a while since they have last landed. She wouldn't be able to recall how long, for time seemed to pass differently than it used to. She blamed the harsh sunlight and the lack of sleep, even if she knew what made her feel so confused and lost. Once again, she refused to acknowledge it; for now, she took a deep breath to calm down, and broke the silence for the first time in hours.

“The sun is about to set. We should land down and rest for the night.”

Her voice was slightly trembling. Next to her, Tao seemed to perk up as well, reminding of his usual eagerness and joy; of course, none of there were to be found in his expression right now. 

“So...what do we do about-”

Everyone knew what he was referring to. Of course. Perhaps it was his upbringing, but Tao was the most blunt one out of them all when it came to grief. He's never had anyone to properly grieve over, having lived most of his life alone, and didn't quite understand all these tears, even though his own eyes were still puffy. Before he could finish his sentence, however, Mendoza cut him off.

“We can leave him here for now. It's...it's easier.”

Zia tilted the steering shaft forward, and the Condor began its slow descent towards the oasis. The red sunlight that still came to it was weak, and the old bird wouldn't be able to go on for much long. She wondered whether it also sensed the change that took place within its crew, whether it knew by its pilot being someone else that something had happened. It was a silly thought, of course, for this bird was but a machine...but with everything they've lived in it, all these distances they've traveled and these countries they've crossed through with it, Zia couldn't help but give this massive orichalcum beast the benefit of the doubt. After all, who knew what genius the people of Mu were able of?

“We're almost there.”, she whispered to it, like a hurt animal she's picked in her hands and was bringing somewhere warm. “Just a little longer.”

Her tone was reassuring, soothing. She slowly put her hand on the dashboard, almost caressing it in affection; and to her great surprise, this is exactly when she heard it.  


She turned her head around, thinking Tao had said something. But he was still busying himself with his bag, and it didn't even sound like his voice. She glanced behind, and saw Mendoza getting ready to land, Pedro and Sancho still talking to each other in hushed tones. She rose a brow, but focused back onto her descent; she hadn't got its former pilot's skill, and needed to focus if she wanted to do it right.  


And that's when she heard it again. And this time, it was coming from right behind her- like someone was whispering into her ear, but not quite. It was a voice, definitely a voice...but whose?  


She withdrew her hand from the dashboard, and it vanished as quickly as it had come. For one second, a split second, she thought to herself. What if…? No, it couldn't be. It wasn't logical, she was...she was hallucinating things. Lack of sleep and that pent-up grief made her hear things that weren't there. She surely would have called it the beginning of madness, as the Spaniards called it, but she knew that she wasn't going mad. To make sure of it, she put her hand on the dashboard again. And the whisper came back.  


_Can you hear me?_  


This voice…! It couldn't be! It couldn't be, no, it couldn't...it couldn't be _him!_  


She was scared. She did not move, afraid that some horror would strike her should she do so. Her eyes slowly opened wide, and the wildest of thoughts darted through her mind, all more insane than the other. It couldn't be...it couldn't be!  


She leaned forward, her body moving without she ordered it to. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She tried to speak, and almost managed to do so; but before she could utter a single world, the dashboard's lights suddenly went off, and the shaft slithered out of her hands. The Condor's cockpit turned off, and Zia realized the darkness she was in. The sun had settled, and the bird has gone with it. It has long since landed, and the others were already outside.  


She closed her mouth, standing up. It wouldn't be of any use to stay in while everyone was setting up camp outside. She headed down the open beak of the Condor, to go and help them.  


As she passed by it, though, her eyes turned to the white shroud peacefully laid on the bench. She had refused to even glance at it while it was being put there...but now, it felt as if something was happening. Something she didn't understand, and was afraid to understand.  


That voice that talked to her, just then. It was his'. _It was Esteban's voice._


	3. Regrets

There is darkness all around him, and he's not sure how to feel about that.  


It's not a dreadful darkness. He's not squeezed and scared like he used to be. He's not worrying that he's going to die, that the world is trying to suffocate him in its grasp, that there is no hope of ever getting out of here again. He doesn't worry at all.  


It's like a dream. A long, dark, lucid dream. He's not able to move his body, or to see what's around him. He has no idea how long it's been, how long it will be until he's able to move again. But it's not the first time this has happened. And to busy his restless mind, he decides to think.  


Esteban has never been one to fear death. He did ask himself about it, more than once, but until recently he didn't really worry about it. The monastery's tales of afterlife, with its chubby-faced angels like he's seen in picture books, have soothed his childish mind more than once whenever he's started to think about it in more detail. He thought that if he were a good person in life, his soul wouldn't have to worry once his time has come.  


But obviously something was wrong. Now that he's experienced it, he knew something was definitely off in his representation of afterlife. No cloudy gates or winged angels were here to welcome him; all around him was darkness and immobility. Which was definitely unsettling, considering what he has been used to. But somehow, this seemed somewhat fitting for him. He wasn't just anyone, after all: he was a chosen one, holder of one of the Sun Medallions, the key to the Cities of Gold. Even though he has lived all of his life in Spain, he wasn't born there, and his family wasn't from there either. A family he has never met and barely heard of, but one whose culture and beliefs preceded those of his upbringing.  


There were moments he wished he knew himself some more. He wished he had spent more time with his father, asked him more questions. He wanted to know about his culture, _their_ culture, if only to have something to hold onto for once. For so long he's supported Tao's never-ending rambles about how the people of Mu were better in any way than those of Atlantis, that Atlantes were nobodies who couldn't even bother to leave anything behind as proof of their existence. Esteban didn't really care about it, of course, since in his eye Atlantis was but a footnote in the long story of his life. But whenever he was witnessing Tao's zeal and admiration of his homeland, whenever he heard him talk with sparkling eyes of his forefathers, Esteban couldn't help but feel a hint of envy growing in his gut. Himself had no home, no roots, and it was his force; but it felt strange to not have anywhere to claim himself to be from. Sometimes he wished he would feel offense at his friend's words, wished he could defend his ancestors' culture and knowledge with the same determination and ardor. Yet all he could do was shrug it off, and claim that he didn't care about it, that his lineage didn't define who he was. And this envy for a homeland would stay there, nestled deep inside himself, where he thought it wouldn't bother him.  


Except for the times it did, like right now.  


Maybe this strange thing that was happening to him was natural. Maybe his ancestors had a ritual of reincarnating their souls into animal-themed objects. Maybe he was worrying over nothing, maybe it was all part of a traditional scheme inherent to who he was and what he was meant to be. And of course, he had no way to know. He had no way to know whether he should be afraid of his condition or not.  


He had no idea how long it would last, and how long he would be stuck here.  


He had no idea whether his friends knew he was in there.  


This would be a long, quiet existence, in the body of his old metallic friend. It would take some time to get used to it. Would he truly ever get used to being a giant orichalcum condor? He was quite an adaptable child, he's sure he would get the hang of it.  


Something tickled his back, like the touch of a feather. It slowly spread in a caressing manner, all over his back and wings, and he woke up again in a breath of fresh sunlight, as if he emerged out of a deep slumber. That feeling slowly invaded his whole body, and he regained awareness of himself. He could feel the solid ground under his feet, the wind hitting against his shiny husk, the signs of rain that would come later in the day. His body was heavy, very heavy, but packed with endless power. And he's started to learn about it more in detail.  


If he had to say how long it has been since he's inhabited the Golden Condor, he would guess a week or so, judging by the number of times he's woken up in a jolt of sunrise. In that time, he's witnessed his life more than he has lived it, since he had no control over his massive body. A pilot had to be in charge, and he was but a machine, after all. But he's learned a lot.  


He's learned to recognize the signs of incoming weather, of high altitude. He's learned to tell where he was in the world and when in the day, basing himself on the sun's position and some sort of internal compass. He couldn't see, since the eyes on his head were but aesthetic designs, but he could locate his immediate surroundings with a way he hadn't identified yet. Perhaps he did have a way to see the light bouncing off things around him; perhaps he was sensitive to things like temperature. He wasn't too sure yet, but he was determined to learn, since it seemed like he had all of eternity to do it.  


And to be fair, he was excited about it. If gaining a better awareness of himself meant he could still help in the search for the Cities of Gold, he would do it.  


It was early in the morning. He hasn't moved in a while, implying his friends were staying here for a moment. Around him, he could recognize a landscape he's sure he's seen before, but wouldn't be able to name. It was familiar, he's been there before, but right now the memories of his life (of _Esteban's_ life) were blurry things in the back of his head. He wasn't sure he could recall them at all, for the Condor likely had no brain or memory storage system.  


Which didn't mean it had no memory whatsoever. Some things that had happened to him over time did feel _familiar_ , for a reason unknown. Esteban had figured that the Condor was quite an old vehicle, that it had traveled long distances already by the time they first found it, and maybe more since. In all of this time, it's logical it would have built some sort of muscle memory, so to speak. Little movements, twitches, instincts that he followed whenever he'd fly. Little things he's also picked up during his time as a pilot; this familiarity was reassuring. He already knew what it meant when the bird's feet were trembling in mid-air, when its feathers were folding up slightly, when the engine started to vibrate more than usual. He knew what to do whenever that happened. But alas, his current pilot did not have the same intimate knowledge of the Condor's clockwork, and he'd be left with itches and needs and twitches that he couldn't fix by himself. Truly, it was the one drawback of being the machine rather than the pilot; or at least the one he knew of. But he trusted Zia, and knew she would do a great job of riding him and learning all about his body.  


...ugh. This sounded _so_ embarrassing just now! Good thing no one could hear his thoughts, no matter how hard he tried. Guess he was quite lonely, all alone in his head with no one to communicate with. He needed to figure out a way to convey the others he was there, he wasn't gone as they thought. Perhaps it would cheer them up, rekindle their thirst for adventure. But for now, it would have to wait.  


Because he's recognized this place. He knew where he had landed. And he knew _whom_ his friends were here to visit.

~~~~~ 

Life was a cruel game, wasn't it? A cruel, sick, ironic game. This was the only reason why such a thing could have happened, according to Athanaos.  


He's had so much hope. After losing his son, his only child for more than twelve years, he's finally had the chance to see him again. He's seen him grown and matured, he's heard of everything he's gone through. He was then being slowly consumed by his curse, forced to conceal himself from the sun and seek a remedy away from his beloved child, but they promised to one another they'd see each other again soon. A promise that he's been holding onto, like a memory dear to his heart. A promise he's failed to carry.  


Never in his life did he picture himself outliving his own child. He had long since accepted the opposite would happen, and embraced this perspective fully. Perhaps this is why he insisted on putting some distance between Esteban and himself, so the separation would not be so hard on him.  


How ironic that today, he despised this very same decision with every last fiber of his being.  


He wiped his tears with a shaking hand, his throat feeling like something heavy and sharp was stuck in it. Next to him, Mendoza hasn't said anything, perhaps out of fear that he'd aggravate his old friend's torment. This would have felt like an impossible task, for Athanaos felt like he was at the deepest point he's ever reached. Words of grief, of reassurance would only be salt on his wounded, bleeding heart. His last remaining family was _gone_ , his only child was _dead_ , and he would maybe never recover from it. But he needed to, he needed to be strong and to keep a cool head on, lest his sorrow end his already weak life even more quickly.  


He raised his masked head, and took a deep, whistling breath. He needed to keep his calm and reason, and to not take wrong decisions under the influence of chagrin. He needed to act with the wisdom expected of a man of his status, of he who has once been the High Priest of the Cities of Gold, someone people would turn to for guidance. He needed to, and he would do it.  


Mendoza turned to him, his own grim expression barely concealed under his usual tough attitude. A mask no different than the one hiding Athanaos's broken face, the latter thought.

“Have you decided on what to do?”, he asked in a quiet tone.

It took Athanaos a moment, but he eventually nodded.

“I suppose it is no use bringing him back to Spain. I will...I will proceed with the rites here.”

Mendoza nodded in solemn agreement. This grim perspective wasn't a very good one, but they had to come to the truth. They couldn't keep traveling with Esteban's remains in tow, nor could they fathom using his medallion to further their quest of the Cities. It did not feel like the right thing to do.  


Their adventures had to come to an end someday, after all. 

“Would you like to bring him to your ancestors' land?”, he offered, perhaps as an excuse to keep traveling just a little longer.

Athanaos shook his head sadly.

“This land is long gone. Our ancestors were of nomadic principles, they did not...they did not care of where they were buried.”

Which is why their legacy was so difficult to unearth, he thought to himself.

“I cannot imagine such a thing would have happened. This is...this does not feel right!” 

His voice remained controlled, but there was lingering anger underneath. Anger he tried so hard to keep in check, tired as he was.

“They were on a _mission_. They were _fated_ to accomplish it. How come that all the wisdom of Mu let something so simple as death hinder their progress? This...this should not have happened!”

“You know nothing could have prevented it. Nothing.”

“But why? Why, Mendoza, _why_ did it have to happen? Now everything is compromised, and the children's quest will never be completed!”

They both knew it, obviously. Without Esteban, they could not move any further, which meant Zares had the advantage. Should his stolen double medallions prove to work, nothing would be able to stop him from opening all the Cities by himself, and to bring pandemonium to the world.  


What was the point of continuing, then? 

“It doesn't have to be that way.”, Mendoza reassured. “I'm sure there is another solution. I'm sure the Sun Medallion can allow another person to wear it.”

“But what if it doesn't? You told me of how it started breaking down the moment he took it off. His fate was sealed, he was the only one able to carry it.”

“Hasn't it been passed down through generations, long before he was born?”

“It will not accept any other wielder. Believe me, I know the unwritten rules.”

They did not look at each other. It would have been useless.

“It is his' alone. It should...he shall be buried with it.”

Mendoza tried to think of something to say, something to object. But he could not find anything. He did not want to disrespect Athanaos's decision. 

“I will tell the others about it.”, he finally conceded. “We'll have the ceremony here. And then...we will see what is wisest.” 

He stood up slowly, and rested his hand on Athanaos's shoulder. Then, driven by a thrust of amity, he embraced him tight, to try and comfort him.

“Be strong, my friend.”

Athanaos was struck with another urgent need to cry. But he held it it, and returned the embrace.

“I will.”

They finally parted after a long moment, and Mendoza left the room, giving him a last glance. Athanaos's own eyes slowly turned to the body laid in front of him, still shrouded in white. At the sight of that concealed form that he knew so much, his throat got squeezed again, and he did not manage to hold back his tears.

“What am I going to do now?”


	4. Loops

He remembers the first time he's made the Condor fly.

Back when he was but a little boy of twelve who didn't know better, following whatever Mendoza told him to do. He remembers the first time he's held the steering shaft into his hands and made the Condor take flight. He remembers the rush of adrenaline, the trembling feeling of his heart beating astray in apprehension, the fear of a crash at every little tremor of the gigantic machine. He remembers holding the snake between his fingers and feeling the weight, the power of the machine seeming so tremendous and huge all around him, yet contained in his feeble palms. This power he had was maybe more dizzying than the height or the speed at which they've taken off, escaping the grasp of Pizarro's soldiers behind them, rising higher and higher into the sunrise. For the first time ever, he's maneuvered the great golden bird, he's made it unfold its wings and take off into the sky, towards freedom, towards the sky, towards their goal.

It seemed so long ago. It seemed like an eternity ago, so long ago he could barely remember. He's grown since, he's learned to harness the power of the Condor, to control it and guide this massive beast whenever he wanted. But despite this, he still recalled his first flight, and how new everything seemed then.  
Perhaps this is what helped him overcome the shock of this new experience.

People used to say there was a first for everything. But they never say whether or not this first would lead to a second, a third, to a many other times. He has gone through the first, the second, the third take off and flight under his new winged form, but he wasn't sure how many more there would be. If he wanted to learn how to move more freely, he needed to make sure his new state would carry on.

Considering his cargo has gotten a little bit lighter, he likely would.

It didn't faze him more than that. He didn't have a lot of feelings anymore, so shock, disgust and fear were of no concern. A machine wouldn't feel anything, logically. It didn't strike him as anything strange or out of the ordinary; because of course, he wouldn't know. And in a sense, it was better. He had, after all, other things to do than freak out over his own fate or existence, or lack of thereof. Even if he _did_ freak out at first, it was lesser than what he's expected someone in his unbelievable situation to do. Then again, of course, he'd never have imagined anyone to be in this situation before; for the sole reason that it was such a weird and unimaginable situation, and that no one in their right mind would picture themselves reincarnating into the body of a giant flying vehicle.  
Even thought that seemingly was a thing. 

But he was done freaking out, anyway. He needed to focus if he wanted to do what he wanted. And what he wanted, right now, was to _move_.

This feeling in his head, the itch to move whenever he was being _piloted_ , was one he couldn't do anything about. Whenever he was commanded to go left, he _had_ to go left. Whenever he was ordered to land, he _had_ to lower his legs and prepare for landing. He couldn't deny his pilot the right to decide what he was to do. And that made sense, of course; but Esteban remembered the many occasions the Condor had moved on its own. Whenever they have started following the path of a new City of Gold, the Condor would shut up its controls and just do its own things, and Esteban had trusted it. It was also drawn to certain constructs of Mu technology, in a way he hasn't understood yet. But now, he was determined to do so, now that he had the perfect occasion.

He was currently flying, gliding over a barren land he did not recognize. It's been at least a couple hours, and he didn't receive any commands besides minor corrections to his trajectory. He could sort of feel whenever his passengers were moving around, and they seemed to be still for now. This would be perfect.

He focused. He pictured himself and his body, tried to be aware of it all. His head, his wings, his tail, his folded legs, his mechanical guts packed with power and energy. The sun was warm, filling him with life; the air was fresh and windy around him, carrying his massive body. He could feel the force of his jet exhaust and how it made his tail feel all warm. He failed to locate his hair, his muscles, his hands, even though it felt like they were still here; he wasn't fully adapted to the change yet. But he overlooked it for now, and focused on his task.

His wings. His feathers. They were the most mobile part of his body, and where he needed to start. He focused, focused on that feeling of power in his gut, focused on the gears and joints in his ~~shoulders~~ scapulars and on how they moved. He could do this. He needed to do this.

He commanded himself to move. And to his surprise, it worked. 

He felt something change in the back of his head, some reaction stirring in the cockpit as he made the snake shaft retract back into its lair. Almost immediately after, his wings raised up slightly, and he felt his body perk up. Like a reflex, his feathers followed, accompanying his ascent into the hot sunny sky, in a tremor of gears and sunlight power. He knew what he was doing, somehow, and he understood the Condor was picking through its muscle memory to help him in his course. He knew he had to compensate his sharp wing angle with more firepower back in his jet exhaust, and to find out just how much was a bit of trial and error at first. But he knew, somehow, he _knew_ how to do this. He needed to believe in himself! He could do it!

In the cockpit, there was shuffle and agitation. His passengers have woken up, and were obviously panicked by this sudden change of course. Esteban took it as a good news, because he now had a chance to show them what he was about to do. Perhaps to make them understand what was going on.

He felt Zia's hands on the dashboard, pressing away on the sun emblem to try and get a hold of the controls again. He felt the urge to let her do so, to give the commands back and stay in his place, but he fought against it and kept going. He corrected his angle, rising almost vertically, and felt the passengers getting literally stuck to their seats as he ascended as fast as he could. He knew he only had one chance to do this, that he couldn't keep going up forever before his momentum would dissipate and gravity catch him back, and have him fall down uncertain heights. The very thought of it gave him echoes of vertigo, but he pushed back with the same force he pushed on his tail to keep ascending higher and higher. He knew how to do this. He's done it before, he could do it!

He braced himself, folded his feathers again, and _beat_ his wings like a real bird would have. He felt them fold back down against his body, as his belly was suddenly facing the sky, and for a moment everything seemed out of place. He wasn't flying anymore, he was floating in mid-air, carried by the sheer force of his own momentum. If he had eyes, he would have closed them, and let this feeling invade him. It was maybe the most daring way he's ever flown, and one that he had the secret of.

Before gravity could catch up, however, he opened his wings again and tipped his beak up, falling down in a vertical position. Gravity rushed his fall and added even more pressure to his already-squeezed hull, in a way he's never felt before. But he wouldn't let that disturb him: raising his wings, he quickly dashed back to a horizontal flight, with an added speed that pushed his passengers even further into their seats. He felt like shouting out in excitement! This incredible looping maneuver was his trick, his closely-guarded signature that he's practiced on his own, during these long moments of wait between two clues. The others were both impressed with his prowess and deathly afraid of it, for aerial acrobatics were much more sickening and dangerous than anything navigation had to offer. And granted that seatbelts would not exist for another handful of centuries, Esteban had to comply with that. 

But he had to do it. It was an urge, a need that resurfaced from the depths of mind slumber. He had to do it just now, or else his spirit would never know peace. Soon he slowed down, returning to his cruise speed, and only then allowed Zia to take control again.

Instead of her hands, however, he felt something else connecting to him.

_How did you do that?_

It wasn't her voice, or at least not exactly. He didn't have ears to listen with, so he suspected it was something else that had spoken to him just now. He tried to focus, to find a way to answer her like he's done before. To let his mind connect to hers.

“I don't know. I felt like I had to.”

He didn't know whether or not she could hear him or understand him. But he had to try.  
Soon after, he got a response. He didn't hear it as much as he _felt_ it, like a sense he wasn't aware he had.

_Esteban? Is that really you?_

Yes! It _was_ him! That's what he was trying to make them understand!

“I'm here, Zia! I'm here!”

_But how? How did you…? You're…you're not here anymore!_

“I don't know. I have no idea how it happened. But it did, and now I'm here! I'm the Golden Condor!”

He realized it likely made no sense; but could one really blame him?

_I don't understand._

“Neither do I. But I'm here. I'm really here.”

There was silence, and agitation as the revelation was carried over to the other passengers. This was likely very surprising news, and he was happy they took it such. He liked to have an effect of people, even though he'd never admit it. 

_Tao doesn't believe you._

“Alright. What do I need to do to prove it's me?”

_I don't know. You were quite convincing already with that looping._

He felt flattered. But he knew his science-bound friend would need some convincing. Taking control again (not like anyone else has decided to take them in that moment), he unfolded his legs and slowly descended down onto the empty land, with some more hesitation than when he was behind the controls. Feeling his feet scrape against the ground was still quite foreign, and he wasn't sure he liked it at all. But he eventually slowed down and came to a stop, raising his wings and lowering his head to let his passengers leave.  
He felt his head becoming emptier, lighter. Zia was still there, hands on his dashboard as if she was afraid to leave him. And he understood that. He didn't really want to be alone right now, for he still could not see things clearly when they were not inside of him.

“I'm glad you're here.”

~~~~~ 

_I'm glad you're here._

The voice wasn't a sound, or even an impression. It was something Zia understood on a deeper level, a level she was the only one able to access. A level of concentration she's had trouble getting into these past days, now that the quest for the Cities of Gold has gone out of existence. But now that the little spark of hope in her heart has been rekindled, she knew with approximate certitude what to do and how to do it. Because now, one thing was for sure.

Esteban was still alive. He's somehow survived, and his soul, his spirit was in the Golden Condor. 

“I'm glad too.”, she finally said after a long time. “How does it feel? Can you see me?”

_I can't see anything. I can...feel things, I feel you inside me...ahh, this is so weird to say!_

She couldn't help giggling at that. Esteban's childish innocence didn't leave him, it seemed. She looked around, as if she was trying to see him floating somewhere in the open cockpit, but was only met with fancy sun-themed decorations.

_I feel the sun's warmth on me. I don't know where we are, but I sense the others are outside. I sort of know where we are right now? It's very strange, I don't have it figured out yet. But I will, believe me._

“I know you will. You're full of ingenuity, you know? You always have good ideas.”

_That's nice of you to say! For now I'll try to get around, to see what I can do. It might take a while._

“Take care.”

She let go of the dashboard, and the voice dissipated again, perhaps to reappear sometimes later. She's yet got to know, but she was determined to learn about it. If only so she could keep talking to her friend.

Her step jittery with excitation, she headed to join the others outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I've turned myself into a condor, Zia! I'm Condor Rick!"


	5. Speed

_So how does it feel?_

The question took Esteban by surprise. He's been flying on the same course for about an hour now, so he was feeling a little sleepy. 

“How does what feel?”

_Oh, don't make me say it. You know what I’m talking about._

If Esteban still had shoulders, he would have shrugged. 

“It feels...kind of scary. You're not there, and then...you are.”

_What? No, no! Not...not that thing. The other thing._

“Tao, there's a thousand things you can ask me about. Be a little more specific?”

_What does it feel like to be inside the Condor?_

To be fair, he wasn't too sure himself. It wasn't a feeling one could describe, nor could he say what it was _not_. It was still very confusing to him, so he didn't know what words he could use to enlighten his friend's curiosity.

“It's...strange. I know you're inside my head, right now. I know we're currently half a league above ground, that it's currently two and eleven in the afternoon, and that it might rain soon according to atmospheric pressure.”

_Whoah! And you know that all by yourself?_

“Sort of! Perhaps I have some sort of internal clock and compass, or I know it from the sun.”

He was a bit flattered at his friend's admiration, honestly. He didn't feel the need to be embarrassed or flustered, and it was a relaxing change. 

_Does that mean you can sense whenever the Condor is coming close to one of the Cities of Gold?_

“Tao, don't be silly. If I knew where any of the other cities were, we'd have been done with our quest a long while ago.”

And it was sad that it wasn't the case. The Condor always seemed to know where to go and what to do...so why couldn't he now? Did he have to be much closer? Was there truly no shortcut to the endless chase track behind which the Cities were hiding? The path mattered as much as the goal, he knew that already...but the path was a little too narrow for a big bird of his stature to fit through, now!

He wondered whether at all it was worth going on. They couldn't just…stop, could they? They couldn't let Zares get a hold of the Cities and the legacy of the people of Mu! That would mean the end of the world, or worse! 

_Esteban, you're being thoughtful again._

He almost jolted out of his thoughts when Zia's voice came to him.

“What? No I'm not.”, he lied.

_Yes you are. Did you know that your lights start blinking slowly whenever you're preoccupied?_

No, he did not. That showed he still had a lot to discover about himself.

“It's rather awkward that you can see my thoughts like this. I don't really like it.”

_Don't worry, I can't know what you're thinking of. Only that your mind's busy._

“Well I _hope_ you can't know!”

Having people inside his literal head wasn't maybe the best thing ever. But even when he tried to be grossed out about it, he couldn't. Was this a good or bad thing? He wasn't sure and didn't really want to be. Quickly, he tried to change topics.

“So where are we heading now?”

_To Giza. We still have a chance to stop Zares from reaching the location of the next City, and we're going to take it._

“Do you think we can do it? He's already found the Scepter of Horus, he'll be able to open the temple gates. And if the medallion of Rana'ori truly works, nothing will be able to halt him!”

_That's where you come into play, Esteban._

He felt her hand lay on his dashboard.

_Do you think you can go faster? If we get there before him, we might be able to stop him._

“Faster? I can try...I think. Take me higher, I'll need clear sunlight.”

He felt a command to fold his feathers up and push higher on his tail. Obeying this impulse, he rose into the air, past the rare clouds of the desert sky, and felt the sun closer onto his back. It filled him with energy and vigor, with the need to do something of it. A need that rose from the depths of his mechanical guts, reminding him of boring days at the monastery where he'd have the urge, the vital urge to just _do something_ of his restless child energy. He let that feeling invade him, he let it itch at every single part of his body, until it became too much to bear; and then, only then, he pushed on his tail as much as possible, and _zoomed_ through the sky.

It felt like a much needed release of his potential. The sudden speed stuck his equipage to their seats, as wind was lashing angrily at his beak and his wings cut through the air like sharp razors. He's never managed to pilot the Condor to that speed, but yet there he was! He was fast, incredibly fast, maybe faster than sound itself, and everything underneath was but an accelerated blur of ochres and sandy colors. He dashed like a shooting star, like a lightning bolt over a stormy sea, like nothing could hold him back anymore. And he _loved_ it, he loved every second of it! He felt like laughing, like shouting, like screaming out in excitement; but when he opened his beak, all that came out was the loud and piercing cry of a raptor bird, that echoed through the sky like a heralding call.

He was speed. He was wind. He was sunlight itself, fast and unstoppable. His wings flapped again, and he barreled in the air like the craziest of birds, driven by a need to show off his amazing prowess. This swiftness, this rush were better than anything he's ever known before. And for a moment, for a short moment, he thought back to it, to himself and to what he's become, and forgot everything else. There was nothing in his mind, no more Cities of Gold, no more Zares, no more everything: only speed, sunlight, and himself.

But something came to interrupt his endless pace. He felt the steering shaft being yanked back, and his mind blankly obeyed, folding his feathers and turning around so fast that his crew almost got thrown out of the cockpit. He stabilized himself awkwardly, the energy of his dash being released all at once, and managed to maintain himself.

“What was that for!?”, he called angrily. “Why did you stop me!?”

_Because you're being way too fast for your own good! We're there already, if you had continued you'd have gone to the sea!_

For a moment, he wanted to ask what about it. He was a little annoyed they'd stopped him so brutally, but he didn't voice it out. He resumed flying at a slower pace, above the beautiful architecture of the Egyptian pyramids. The next clue to the fifth City of Gold. 

_Do you sense anything?_

“Not yet.”, he replied, still a little moody. “Or maybe I do, but it's too faint for me to identify. Should I land?”

Mendoza's voice suddenly sounded out.

_Not yet. Keep your guard up, and your eyes open. We don't know what this snake has planned for us._

There was no sign of the enemy's flying ship yet. He'd hover around, staying alert; but after a time of idle flight, he decided to land behind some rocky formation, hoping to stay hidden.

“Perhaps we've gotten here before him. Why don't we go ahead and find the next clue?”

_What if that's what he wants? He could try to follow us, he's done it before!_

_And we don't have your medallion anymore, Esteban. What if we need it?_

“You don't have it? Why? What did you do with it?”

He felt a tinge of possessiveness hit him when he heard that. But to his justified annoyance, he only got unease in reply. It took him a moment to understand why. 

"...I'm sorry. I didn't...I didn't mean to.”

_No, we...we understand. We should have told you._

_We did what we thought was best._

And he couldn't blame them. While he's been having fun flying, taking in the sun and asking himself all sorts of questions, his friends have been grieving, mourning, and thinking of stopping their quest altogether. And it felt very weird to be the one being mourned over.

“It's fine. We don't need to open the gates to the City, all we have to do is stop Zares from doing so. It can't be that hard.”

_But he has the double medallion! How will we manage to do that?_

“You seem to forget he depends on us. All he's done was following us as we progressed onto the path to the Cities of Gold. Do you really think he'd have the patience to go through all the riddles and puzzles we've gone through? He'd just find a way to ruin it all, brute as he is!”

There was silence for a moment. Then Mendoza spoke again.

_You're right. It's a chance you're much more optimistic than the rest of us, Esteban._

“Well...someone has to.”

If he still had lips, he would have smiled. 

“Let's split up. I'll assure aerial coverage, you go to the temple gates and wait for him. If his ship comes, I'll take care of it.”

_Will you be fine? The Condor is not a fighting machine, you said so yourself._

“I may not have weapons, but I still have some tricks up my sleeve. Well, up my feathers.”

He opened his beak to let them out, staying alert. Just before leaving, however, Zia touched to the dashboard again.

_You're taking it very well, Esteban. Are you sure everything is alright?_

He got a bit taken aback by her question.

“Well...I'm alright, yes. Why do you ask?”

_...nothing. Just stay safe, please._

And she left. Esteban gave them a moment to get ready, before taking off and hiding over the clouds again. Stay ready, stay alert.

“Come on, Zares.”, he taunted. “Show yourself if you're not a coward.”

~~~~~ 

“Do you think Esteban will be fine?”

“He's a smart child. We should trust him.”

“I know...but it's not what I meant.”

The team was following the narrow path that led to the buried temple of Saqqara, where the engravings on the Scepter of Horus had led them. If their intuition was right, they still needed the Scepter itself to act as a physical key to the temple gates, a key that currently was in the enemy's possession. And from then on, they would have to improvise and see what path to take.

Mendoza had his sword drawn, glancing around every now and then. Sancho and Pedro looked mortified at the premise of dangerous creatures lurking in this valley. Tao was re-reading his copy of the Scepter's instruction, hastily traced in his book. As for Zia, she was following the group, looking up at the sky with worry. The faint golden gleam of the Condor could be seen glistening behind the few clouds, and it reassured her. But her worry would not leave. Her worry about their quest, about the next City, and about Esteban. About the future, too, and what they would do. 

If they failed to stop Zares and his evil intentions, they would witness the end of the world as they know it. But what if they succeeded? They wouldn't be able to go any further. Not without Esteban and his medallion. The prophecy needed the two of them, and it couldn't be otherwise. She would not be able to bear this weight on her shoulders alone, even though it was what she was born for. She needed her friend, her companion in order to do this; but now that he was gone, what could she do?

No, she told herself. Esteban wasn't gone. His spirit was still here, in the Condor, and it was wrong to speak of him like this. He wasn't gone, he was here and could still talk to her. He would be able to guide her and stand by her side, to be a shoulder she could lean on. In a thrust of nostalgia, she remembered the first time she's seen him face to face, in the boat that brought them back to the New World about two years ago. He'd been so nice and friendly to her, whereas she always thought of him as some strange, distant entity born from the superstition of the people of Barcelona. And it had reassured her so much. 

He wasn't gone, she thought to herself. His body may have changed, but he was still there. He wasn't there with them, walking down the path to the valley, but he was still alive. This was what mattered the most, what she needed to remember…even though it was striking a severe blow to her secret, unspoken plans for the future. For _their_ future. 

“Are you alright, Zia?”

Tao's voice woke her up from her thoughts.

“Be careful. It's rather steep here.”

A quick glance downwards confirmed it. It was best not to fall down.

“I will. Don't worry.”

He nodded. But just in case, he offered his arm, and she held onto it.

At the head of the group, Mendoza suddenly came to a stop.

“I'll be damned!”

They all turned to what he was looking at. In front of them, the large doors of brown stone were wide open.

“We're too late! He's overtaken us!”

“We still have a chance to stop him! Let's hurry, we can catch up!”

“Tao, wait! Don't you see? He and his ship are nowhere to be seen! He's long gone, he's already headed to wherever the Scepter had led him!”

“We need to hurry, then! Let's return to the Condor, we have a chance to-”

The rest of Tao's words were drowned out in noise. Above their heads, a tremendous sound had echoed out, making the ground tremble and dust fly everywhere. They raised their heads, and saw a golden gleam suddenly dashing towards the horizon, piercing the clouds like a cannonball through wood. 

“ _Esteban!!!_ ”


	6. Chase

He's not sure of what he's doing, and even if he did, it was too late to turn back.

The moment he's seen even the slightest hint of a hot air balloon in the distant sky, he didn't even think. He had pushed on his engine, and dashed through the clouds, chasing what could very well have been just a mirage. He didn't take a single second to analyze things, to really think about whether or not this was a good idea, or even to come up with a plan. He just did it. It was like something within was screaming at him to do it.

He was cutting through the sky, like a lightning bolt going for a sailing ship, his wings whistling so loudly they made birds deviate from their course. He was rushing maybe faster than he did before, his speedometer getting off the charts. Was his body even made for such a rapid flight? He didn't want to bother with it now, for he was focused, very focused on his current goal. And while he wasn't sure he could still feel things, he knew for a fact that he was _angry_.

He flew past clouds, past the mist, and that's when the fish-like shape of the hot air balloon appeared, carrying the large wooden ship across the sky. The twin trails of steam that followed it guided Esteban in his course, guided him towards the enemy, the _traitor_ and his vehicle. He could do it. He could catch up! He'd do this, _he'd do this!!_

But sadly, his plans wouldn't always go his way. Before he could crash into the ship, the latter suddenly dropped its course and flew out of the way, and Esteban's beak only hit more air. He's nearly toppled over in his rush! He stabilized himself and tried to slow down, his momentum now wasted into pushing clouds away in waves. He managed to hover at a reasonable height, keeping his wings curved to not drop from even higher. 

Below him, the ship was getting back up, shaken but not fazed at all. He remembered the weapons Ambrosius had in his possession, and wondered if his hasted plan had anything of a good idea at all. What if he shot at him and managed to break his husk? He couldn't let that happen! Quickly, he straightened his wings again and flew round the ship, trying to disorient it. He needed to find a way to get the upper wing, or else he'd lose this battle.

On the ship, the meager crew of Ambrosius, Gaspard and Laguerra have noticed that something was off. Surely they'd be surprised by a full-frontal attack from the Condor; which meant Esteban had the advantage. He saw the cannons turn towards him, and dashed even faster, avoiding enemy fire and making the sails tremble and waiver. 

Perhaps that was it? If he caused enough wind currents, he could shake the ship so much it'd fall, and he'd win this battle. He had to try to push it down and crash it! Quickly, he thrust up and rose into the air, using a ray of midday sunlight to power his whole body. From the corner of his full-body vision, he saw the ship rising as well, trying to catch up awkwardly to his tremendous ascension, yet pushed back by the force of his jet exhaust. When he felt the power wavering in his wings, he pushed his whole body backwards in a dramatic somersault, legs up once again, and visualized his target. This was perfect: all he had to do was to push down, and the ship would fall in his rage. He turned his exhaust once again, and peaked down like a hawk on its prey, wind lashing alongside him. 

He was more than a league above ground, so high he could barely see anything of it. Everything was blurry and rushed around him, and light didn't have anything to bounce off of. He was blind to anything but his target, a faint speck of gold in the darkness, and the sun right above him. He rushed and rushed, beak closed and ready to pierce through that balloon, ready to push that damned ship into the ground. He rushed, focused on his prey, ready to strike and-

And-

And...

 _-and suddenly he's falling, and he has nothing to hold onto, and he feels the wind whipping at him, and he screams and he's scared and suddenly there's a_ flash _and he falls and it gets closer and the light blinds him and his voice breaks and-_

-and he suddenly shouts, and deviates from his course, jolting like his body's not in his control anymore. The wind pushes the ship away, but it's nothing destructive like he had wanted, it's weak and sickly and before he knows he's _flying away_ like the biggest of cowards. He pushes on his tail and bolts out of here, out of Ambrosius's reach, back to safety.

He took a deep breath of sun, and tried to compose his thoughts. What had just happened? What has he been doing? Good thing he managed to stop himself, or else he would have crashed right into the ship. He's gotten afraid at the last moment, afraid of...what exactly? He had no clue, it was...like a fleeting impression. Like a feeling even worse than vertigo.

It suddenly dawned on him how _stupid_ he's been, and how reckless. A surprise attack, really?! The Condor wasn't meant for direct attacks, that would have been way too risky! And with all the tricks Ambrosius was capable of? That would have been suicide! He thought that a wooden ship could stand no chance against orichalcum, but this would be under-estimating the enemy! He's been so stupid, so stupid!! What was he even thinking of!?

He needed to find his friends again. He's left without a word, and they were maybe worried sick, or worse! Good thing he could make it before sunfall. He took a deep breath of sunlight, and dashed again into the sky.

Still...he wondered what that weird sensation could have been.

“I really need help.”, he muttered to himself.

~~~~~ 

“I can't believe it...”

In the horizon, the golden gleam of the Condor was disappearing as suddenly as it has come. Like the fight that had just happened didn't even take place at all. 

“This is madness!”, Laguerra roared, trying to spot the machine in the horizon. “Now they're attacking us directly! What are these kids _thinking_!?”

Behind her, Ambrosius had barely moved, as if struck by shock. But slowly, his bearded face got slit with a grin.

“Why, this is a very interesting perspective.”, he mused.

“Interesting? What, do you think they're planning something?”

“Did you not see?”

He looked at her with that spark of madness in his small eyes, to which she only replied with confusion.

“See...what? I don't get where you're going.”

“The Condor! The cockpit was empty! I clearly saw it, there was no one inside!”

“So what?”, grumbled Gaspard, coming up from under the deck. “What about it?”

“Don't you realize, you idiots? The Condor was moving on its own! A vessel piloting itself, with such accuracy! This is beyond anything I've ever witnessed!”

He leaned over the railing of the ship, looking at the spot in the sky where the Golden Condor had disappeared.

“This is not standard orichalcum control. It would take immense mind power to move a construct of this size, and from such a distance...”

“Then... _what_ is it, then?”

The small man thought for a moment, before hastily making his way down to his laboratory. He searched between books and scrolls, making a mess of his already disordered library, until he found what he was looking for. He flipped through the tome and read the page, and a manic laugh soon fell from his mouth.

“This is it! This is really happening!”

The other two came to him, still not getting anything of what he was rambling about.

“What? What is happening? Explain yourself!”

But instead, Ambrosius shut the book, keeping it for himself as always.

“What is happening, my dear friends...is that now, things will be much, _much more_ interesting.”


	7. Sacrilege

_What were you even thinking, Esteban!? You could have put us all in danger!_

“I told you I was sorry, alright?”

If Esteban still had lungs, he would have sighed in annoyance.

_You need to be more careful! You can't just leave us in the middle of the desert like that! Your recklessness has consequences, you know it!_

_Mendoza, please! He's been through enough as is. Don't be too harsh on him._

He appreciated Zia coming to his defense, but it didn't make him feel better like he'd thought. He tried not to think of it as he kept flying south, towards where Ambrosius's ship was last seen heading.

_You need to understand that you can't just do whatever you please. We need to do this together, and what happened to you does not change it._

“I know we are. I told you, I don't know what came to me.”

It has been like a dream. Where he was both conscious of what he was doing, and unsure that he was the one behind his own movements. Where everything seemed to make sense to him, and a second later, did not. And he didn't know how to tell that to the others, lest they thought he was going mad. Perhaps it had just been an impression, after all.

He needed to know better.

“So...where are we going, right now? Because if I understood correctly, he's got quite a way ahead of us.”

_We can still intercept him and cut his progress short. If needed, we'll fight him._

“Isn't that precisely what you _didn't_ want me to do? I can't see your logic there.”

He could feel Mendoza wasn't used to such remarks from his part. And himself wasn't used to them either. But what could he do about it? He was still bitter about his failed assault, and couldn't even kick pebbles into the distance, scream or stomp his foot in frustration anymore. All that restlessness was starting to build up within him, and he couldn't release it in ways other than verbal piques. Needless to say, he hated it.

He wondered how much of himself was still in his control, and how much was under the influence of whatever the Condor did to him. Did the Condor itself even have a soul? No, it was a stupid thought. And to be honest, it creeped him out a little. It was best to not think of it too much, and simply follow his pilot's commands. Shut his mind, say nothing, be a blank machine with a function and a purpose. If he kept talking, he'd say something very mean sooner or later, and he hated the thought of it.

He rested his fate to Zia's piloting, then. And he found out it wasn't that hard of a process. While he still remained somewhat aware of where he was, he fell into some sort of half-sleep state, everything seeming much more blurry and confused around him. Having someone else drive his body around wasn't so bad, after all. He didn't even have to watch out for where he was going; he wasn't supposed to. Even if it made him still a little bit uncomfortable, it wasn't that much of a problem, now. He's accepted it.

He's accepted that for some reason, his fate wouldn't be in his own hands anymore.

They ended up flying until sundown, still without a trace of their target. Esteban could feel his forces wavering along with the sun, and he let himself be landed down not far from a little settlement of merchant caravans. He's used his wings quite a lot today, and even though he couldn't feel tired, rest would do him some good.

_Take it easy, Esteban. We'll come back in the morning._

“I know. Good night.”

He folded his wings up, and watched the others leave in direction of the settlement. A gentle sandy breeze was hitting against his back; he could feel tiny grains slide down his body, building up in small piles under his tail. Between the rare clouds, he could see the full moon shining of its pale white light. 

“I wonder if I could fly under the light of the moon.”, he asked himself. “It's reflected sunlight, after all...”

During his journey, he's come to see many cultures and beliefs. And many of these had a strong symbolic appeal towards the Sun, a reverence for its warmth and life-giving rays. Even in strongly-monotheist Spain, worship of the sun remained in the form of superstitions, some of which he had first-hand experiences of. And next to the powerful and mighty Sun, he would sometimes find a gentle, quiet, discrete Moon to serve as wife, mother or companion. It fascinated him how everything across the world was so similar despite being so different. Perhaps this was the real heritage of the people of Mu, and the cultures they influenced and created.

As the sun slowly disappeared behind the horizon, he felt his sleepiness come back, as every other night. He braced himself for it, for the moment where his forces would suddenly abandon him, and where he wouldn't have any other choice but to fall into deep slumber, unmoving and unfeeling, until the sun would rise and power him up again. A familiar, never-changing cycle.

Perhaps even a never-ending cycle.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_“I will be a truly blessed moment. I can't wait!”_

_“Neither can I...but still, I can't help worrying.”_

_“Worrying? Are you afraid of what people will say?”_

_“Well, we have to face the facts. The people here don't see me with a kind eye...so what tells me it'll be any different for them?”_

_“You know people would never do that. I wouldn't let it happen. If you give them time, they will see how good of a person you are. They will see you just as I do. And all of this talk will cease, and we'll have a normal life.”_

_“Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve you, my love.”_

_“Well, first of all, you conveniently forgot all your sailing experience when faced with a completely harmless coast. Then you bounced on it like it was no big deal, and pretended you were fine ever since. And all I did was making sure you were.”_

_“Well, I suppose I do have a strange way to get around the world. But don't go believing my experience has left me, on the contrary! You'll see, treasure; I will show you everything there is to see!”_

_“Really?”_

_“Really! I can't wait to show you all I've seen during my journeys. The beautiful mounds of China! The mirror lakes of the north! The impressive Hindu temples and their statues!”_

_“Come on, don't spoil the surprise! You know I can wait, my love. After all, I am already waiting for Wayra's arrival.”_

_“I know. And don't think for one second that I won't show him all these wonders too. As soon as he's here, the three of us will embark, on to a new life.”_

_“As soon as he's here? That would be a little risky... Couldn't we stay here for a time, and save the adventure for a little later?”_

_"...I knew you would say that.”_

_“Are you mad at me?”_

_“No, not at all, my dearest! I would never resent you for anything. Not after everything you gave me.”_

_“I'd give you so much more. You know I would give my life for you if it means we can stay together.”_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The sun hit his back, and he jolted back to life.

~~~~~ 

“So...our quest is pretty much over, isn't it?”

Zia didn't answer, still looking down. Tao glanced at her, before resuming petting through Pichu's feathers, making the bird croon lightly.

“I can't believe we've come so far, all for nothing!”, he muttered. “It's not fair. We should do something! We still have a chance!”

“Esteban gone.”, Pichu countered, with a sad tone to his voice. “Cities are gone.”

“I know that, already. But that doesn't mean the end!”

“It does, Tao.”, Zia said, looking at him. “We can't possibly continue without him.”

“But he's not gone! He's right there, with us! He's not...he's not dead!”

She shivered at the word, and avoided his gaze.

“He's not dead.”, he repeated. “We didn't lose him...in the end, he's still with us.”

Zia didn't reply. He could tell she was thinking of it. _Remembering._ And he couldn't help remembering too, recalling that horrible moment.

“We thought we'd lost him, but he's still there. And so is hope.”

“But it's not what was meant to happen! We were supposed to do this together, and now we can't! Even if his soul is still there, we won't be able to push our quest any further now!”

“I'm sure there's a way. There's always a way! And if there isn't one...we'll find it!”

He looked outside of the little tent they've spent the night in. In the distance, the resting form of the Golden Condor was bathing in the first rays of the sun, gleaming from its morning bootup. A huge construct of pure orichalcum, that looked so small from there. Even Pichu's fat silhouette flying in front of his face looked like a giant with this perspective.

“I know there's a way to resume our adventure. You won't tell me that our ancestors didn't plan this eventuality! That would not suit their wisdom.”

“Remember the people of Mu!”

Even though she wasn't in the mood to smile, Zia appreciated her friend's optimism. She needed it more than ever.

“And what great plan are you thinking about?”

Tao took a moment to reflect on it, watching the Condor slowly open its wings and raise its head. How amazing that human souls were actually able to possess machines! This was opening so many new possibilities, and giving him so many new ideas! He was already planning and scheming all sorts of experiments, tests and operations to analyze all the possibilities this discovery could go. 

“I might be onto something here...”

In the distance, the Condor was folding its feathers around, almost as if flapping its wings. But its body wasn't made for such movements: it was too heavy, not flexible enough. And to be fair, Esteban didn't have the best coordination ever. If only there was a way to make this huge body lighter and easier to move around…

Zia came closer, looking at the bird as well. She still had so many unanswered questions, wondering what it could be like to _be_ such an imposing machine. She's known of people reincarnating into creatures, or other people, or even stars...but never into items. And she didn't know what to think of it.

Pichu landed on Tao's arm, looking at him. The latter returned his gaze, still thoughtful; before opening his eyes as if he just had a revelation.

“That's it!”

His voice startled Zia a little.

“That's it! I know what to do!”

He headed back into the tent, and picked his book, frantically flipping through the pages.

“Do you?”, she asked, confused but relieved.

“Of course! I know what we have to do: we must build him a new body! A better, improved one!”

That took her aback, especially when he put his book under her nose, showing her sketches and scribbles she could hardly read.

“How do you build someone a whole new body? And how will that help?”

“Don't you see? If we need Esteban's medallion to continue our quest, he needs a neck to wear it around. Which means, we have to give him a suitable vessel! A smaller one that can go everywhere the Condor's too big to fit! Which, you'll notice, is basically everywhere.”

That point wasn't bad. But something didn't feel right in all of this.

“This doesn't sound good.”, she hesitated. “This almost feels like a sacrilege.”

“A sacrilege? What do you mean?”

She took a moment to find her words.

“Esteban is...I don't know what's happening to him, or why, but it's obviously something we cannot understand. You and I both saw him what happened that day, and it's a miracle his soul is still with us. I fear that if we mess with the order of things, something bad will happen to us all.”

Tao's smile dropped a little.

“Well...when you say it like this, it sure sounds like I'm doing some freak experiment.” 

He thought some more, his voice growing quieter.

“But perhaps...this is what was intended all along? Perhaps this is all part of our quest?”

“How do you mean? You're not saying that...that Esteban was meant all along to…?”

Her throat was growing heavy. It couldn't be! Fate couldn't be so cruel, so _heartless_ as to make this terrible event an inherent part of their quest! The people of Mu couldn't have planned this, _intended_ this!

And if they did...what did it mean for the rest of them? Was she also meant to suffer such a gruesome fate? Did the gods plan for her to become but a casualty? Was this what she had strived to live for, was this what she was born for?

“Zia? Is...is everything alright?”

He reached out to her, in an attempt to comfort her. But suddenly, she slapped his hand away.

“How can you? How can you say such things!? Does his death mean nothing to you!?”

“What? No! No, that's not what I meant! I promise!”

“It sounded like you did!”

She wiped a stray tear off her eye.

“He's still here, but...we saw it. He's _dead_ , Tao, we saw it happen! And with him, our quest is dead as well! And here you are, saying it doesn't matter, that his soul is just...some _item_ to be carried around!”

Her voice was trembling, despite the rage it was trying to quell. Her hands were shaking.

“We watched his body being buried, Tao. We were all...crying, and wondering why it had to happen, and even today, this feeling of grief is not leaving me. Even if Esteban's soul is still there...there are some things that do not leave. There are some things I can't forget.”

She tried to keep her eyes dry, but it was becoming harder and harder with each passing second. So she eventually gave up, and let them flow out. It would help her, she thought. It didn't help her much when her father had passed away, but perhaps this time it would. She hoped with all her heart it would help her move on. 

She cried in silence, letting her knees fall to the ground, her head be weighed down by all the thoughts that rushed inside. Her throat was squeezed by the silence that now reigned inside the tent. It was Tao's voice that broke it, a time later.

“I'm sorry, Zia. I didn't know...I didn't know you felt that way.”

She took a moment to regain her composure, to keep her cool and raise her head. It was nowhere near an easy task.

“It's alright.”, she simply said. “I'm sorry I snapped.”

He sat in front of her, a comforting hand resting on her shoulder. She gave in to the invitation, and embraced him, her throat still shaken by weak hiccups. He pat her back slowly, in an awkward attempt at soothing her.

“I know I shouldn't make such a deal of it. But...I just can't forget that day. I can't forget this feeling...this fear I felt. I really thought it was all over...”

“So did I...but I can't blame you. You have every right to make a big deal out of it.”

He looked away for a moment, as if ashamed.

“It's still way too soon. I feel bad I'm not taking this as seriously as you are. But...that's how things are. I should be grieving with you, and yet I'm not.”

“It's not your fault.”

They both kept their head down, not knowing what to say. Slowly, they broke the embrace, and Tao got up, offering her a hand. 

“Perhaps we should talk to him. In the end, it's his decision alone. And even if he won't say it...I have a feeling he's not living it too well either.”

“I can't blame him. It must have been horrible...”

She shuddered at the thought. 

Outside, there was some movement already. Everyone was waking up, and they'd have to hit the road again soon.

“Come.”, he offered. “Let's join the others. We still have a long way ahead of us.”

She nodded, and followed him out of the tent.


	8. Leads

“Come on, you- you know I don't need it!”

_And? You can't take care of yourself in this form, so you have to let us do it for you._

“Nooooo!!!”

But he couldn't do anything about it. A second later, the wet cloth touched to his dashboard, and squeaked as Tao wiped it across the lights and dials.

“You won't get away with this!”, Esteban complained, like a prisoner being led to the chopping block. “I'll stomp you to death!!”

_If you manage to move your feet in the first place._

Having his cockpit cleaned up wasn't actually uncomfortable by any means. If anything, he just felt the air freshening up in the back of his neck. But what he truly loathed about this situation was how Tao had the smug upper hand over him, diligently scrubbing his mechanisms like he was a dog being groomed, or a child being bathed. It made him feel vulnerable! But again, all he could do was simply stand there and let it happen.

_I tell you, you really needed it. When did you last give the Condor a wash? It's got dust all over its screens!_

“It remained in the volcano temple for years, of course it's dusty.”

_Until today._

Another splash of seawater hit his body, and he would have shivered if he still had skin. Ugh, why did he have to land right next to the shore?

_You should thank me. I'm taking better care of the Condor than you ever did!_

“Don't start saying such things now, or else I make you fall off my head.”

 _Oh, don't play tough with me. I know you won't do it, because you_ know _my washing skills are up the charts!_

“You're being too rough with that brush...and where is Zia? Wasn't she with you a moment ago?”

_She's out to get some firewood. Mendoza's talking to fishermen, they might have spotted Ambrosius's ship the other day. Pedro and Sancho are still trying to catch eels...aaaand they just failed again._

Indeed, a splashing noise sounded out from not far, followed by clumsy voices. Esteban simply looked around, taking some sunlight on his wings.

“I thought Zia was the only one who could hear me.”

_We all thought so, too. Then I started hearing you as well._

Esteban didn't really know what to make of that. 

_Hey, perhaps it means I'm starting to get extra-sensory powers too, like you two! Oh, wouldn't that be great?_

“Perhaps? I wouldn't be surprised if you could...talk to orichalcum, or something like that.”

_Of course you wouldn't. It's only natural that I grow powers of my own, too! I'm not surprised at all that this would happen sooner or later._

“I may be a giant Condor, but out of the two of us I'm not the one with the biggest head here.”

He felt an annoyed bucket of water splash over his dashboard, to what he simply replied with a very implied smug smile. 

The signal sounded off in his mind again, and he lowered his head. Water trickled out of his beak when he opened it, almost splashing Zia underneath. She hastily stepped back, waiting for the dusty brine to drain away before entering.

“Hi there, Zia! I hope the weather was nice.”

_It was, thank you. My, look at how clean you are! You're so shiny I can see myself in every knob._

“Thank Tao for his amazing cleaning prowess. He's found his one true talent in wielding a brush.”

_Exactly! Uh- wait, what did you mean by that, now?_

Zia let out a small laugh at that pique, sitting down. 

_You'll never change, you two._

“Believe me, changing is not always good.”

He's said that with a sort of self-conscious humor in mind, but he felt like it didn't get very well-received among his friends. 

"...so. What's the plan, now that I’m all scrubbed clean?”

That seemed to wake them up from their silence.

_We're still heading south. There's not much we can do for the time being other than follow Ambrosius._

“And once we get there? Do we just...engage battle?”

_I don't know. If Mendoza has a plan, he won't say it._

_But we're out of options, so we might as well do as he says._

“I hate that is has come to this. We were so close! If we hadn't been slowed down, we'd be on our way to the fifth City by now!”

He felt some worry from his friends, and a couple hands on his dashboard.

_Don't say that, Esteban. We couldn't have known._

_Yeah. You didn't choose to-_

Zia quickly hushed him.

_...you didn't. That's not your fault._

Was it truly? He tried to remember what happened that day, now several weeks ago. What happened...what was the last thing he remembered from his days as a fleshy, breathing, bleeding human child. It was so blurry, like it was from long ago, and only came back to him in figments and fleeting sensations. 

He recalled there being a great wind, so great it lashed at his face like whips. He recalled a blinding flash of light, a dizzying sensation. He recalled a loud sound, like a gunshot echoing in a cave. He recalled the ground suddenly disappearing under his feet, his heart skipping a beat, skipping two beats, skipping ten beats, until it skipped beating altogether.

He recalled the darkness, the squeezing sensation of losing control, the cold and unfeeling grasp around his throat; and his muted, frightened, desperate call for help.

“No.”, he finally said. “That...wasn't my fault.” 

He opened his beak again, in case his friends felt like leaving after this rather strange-mooded dialogue.

“Go ahead, join the others. I'll wait for you here.”

_We won't be long. Take care._

“I will...I might just get a quick exercise flight.”

_You don't have any muscles to exercise, though._

“I don't see why that would stop me.”

He let them walk down and step away from him. Then he gently took off on his own, unfolding his wings and going for a flight along the shoreline. Nothing better than speed to let the water dry off his cockpit, after all! And he didn't like to just stay idle and do nothing when everyone else was eating, so he might as well get himself a “meal” in the form of sunlight...if only to feel like he was still part of the group.

He didn't feel very good about it, but he figured it could always be worse. At least his friends were there, and they didn't give up on him. He'd just have to live with the fact he was now a giant bird of orichalcum. He was used to it by now, but...still, there were moments it made him feel weird. One couldn't simply wave it off with the same simplicity as if he'd just changed clothes or cut his hair! While no one dared to speak it out, especially to his face, he knew the others were feeling weird about this whole thing, more than himself. He didn't have to wonder what they were saying about him behind his gilded back. 

But he was used to it. He's heard enough whispers behind his back during his Barcelona years, whispers and voices that uttered again and again the dreaded title of _son of the sun_ , voices that'd follow him even long after he's left Spain for good. These whispers have followed him as far as the High Peak, as the land of the Amazons, and even as the City of Tseila, like a permanent reminder of his freak condition and ability. And he never said anything about it, because it would have been useless to try. He's accepted it would stick to him like some nasty label that'd always set him apart from the others, even among his own friends, without he could change anything about it. He's accepted people would always whisper when they thought he couldn't hear, and he's accepted he wouldn't be able to prove them wrong. 

So what if his own friends were to speak ill of him and his newfound condition? At least he wasn't there to hear them. They could call him all sorts of names if they pleased, and speak all they want about how _weird_ it was, and how _grieving_ they were. He wouldn't care, for he would be way up high above them, where all these bad thoughts wouldn't reach him.

...

Oh, what was he thinking? He may be flying high, but he was to think such bad things of his own friends, then he was really stepping low! It wasn't like him to be wary and paranoid about what Tao and Zia might think of him. Where did that sudden sting of self-consciousness come from? It was bad to think such bad things. He trusted his friends, for they were the people he believed in and considered his family, now. And they wouldn't whisper about him in his back. They were not like Spaniards or superstitious people; and that's why they were the best.

He straightened up from his passive belly-up circling, and carefully glided down to where his friends were. They needed to hit the road as soon as possible, and to cover as much ground before nighttime. Perhaps he could even help them on ground! Tao's ideas about a smaller, inhabitable vessel he could enter were still theories for now, but they had him interested. He ached to feel the ground under his walking legs again, as excitable as flight might be.

As he approached the ground and got ready for landing, however, he started to feel dizzy. He lost control for a second and almost fell, but managed to stabilize himself and land down. He saw the others rushing his way, and remembered to open his beak, still confused and wobbly.

_Esteban! Are you alright?_

“I...I think I am, yes.”

He tried to regain his composure and senses. If he still had a chest, he'd have taken a deep breath.

_Esteban, what happened? You seemed like you lost control._

“I'm fine. I just...I felt something odd.”

_Something odd? Is it good or bad news for us?_

He didn't know what to reply to that. He simply rose his head once everyone was in, and tried to focus.

“It's...it's a signal! I feel it better now, it's a signal!”

_A signal? What kind?_

“I'm not sure, but...it's like that time the Condor was attracted to the Crystal Pearl! There's something, and I know which way we have to go!”

_Could it be the way to another City?_

_We have nothing to lose by following it, right?_

_We have to be careful. We can't just deviate from our course and let the enemy get the lead!_

“It's different. It's...I don't know how to explain it, but I feel like I should- like we should get there. It's not far, I know it, we just...”

He failed at explaining himself, which brought him much frustration. A moment later, he felt Mendoza's hand on his dashboard.

_Alright. We'll follow that path, if you think it's the right one._

“Do you mean it?”

_I trust your decisions._

If Esteban still had a neck, he would have nodded in determination.

“Alright. I'm taking off, then!”

He filled his body with raw energy, folded his legs back, and pushed on his tail until he was high up in the clouds.

This could be it. He didn't know what “it” was, but he wouldn't take long to find out.

~~~~~ 

“Are you _finally_ going to tell me what's going on?”

Laguerra's annoyed voice sounded out like a lion's roar in the otherwise quiet laboratory. Although “quiet” was a dirty euphemism, for everywhere around her was the murmur of boiling liquids, the hum of mechanisms and the creaking and clinking of gears, around which the little man was busying himself.

Needless to say, he didn't appreciate this authoritative interruption, and looked at her with an angry squint.

“Have you found what I asked you?”

“I have. And I've returned an hour ago, but you were too busy doing...whatever you're doing to even hear me.”

She lightly kicked the bag she's put on the ground, making the statue wobble. An animal-headed statuette “borrowed” from a temple nearby, with a shine of pure gold yet a weight of pumice; it carried on its head a disk of dark onyx that contrasted with the sun-colored body of the falcon-man hybrid. 

“Ah, very well!”, Ambrosius rejoiced. “Very well indeed.”

He examined it, ran his fingers over the intricate details of the sculpted orichalcum, always with that knowing grin. A grin that Laguerra still didn't understand.

“I don't get it.”, she said after an uneasy moment. “Why do we need that statuette for? Will it help us find the way to the Cities?”

“Oh, perhaps it would have. But I had the foresight of skipping a couple steps in our quest, so it is practically useless now.”

He positioned it neatly on his work table, before pulling levers and turning cranks on his assemblage of gears. The Luminarium started to move and turn, its mirrors and lenses reflecting and focusing sunlight into a thin beam, which struck right into the sundisk on the statue's head. Its eyes lit up and projected something on the wall of the ship, some scribbles and lines that would have been part of a map, and to which Ambrosius paid no attention.

“It looks...strange.”, Laguerra commented. “It's all cut in parts...perhaps it needs to be superimposed with the engravings on the wall of the temple? That would explain it!”

“We do not have time for puzzles.”, Ambrosius dismissed. “Here is where you should turn your eyes to.”

Indeed, the statuette was now shining a golden gleam, trademark characteristic of orichalcum constructs.

“It truly is a special metal.”, he remarked. “It does not do well at carrying heat or electric currents, but it absorbs sunlight and spreads it all within its structure to reveal all sorts of codes and instructions, written in the very core of its molecules.”

He was messing with something. Some sort of weird-shaped handrifle, which was glowing in parts. A dark, threatening glow.

“As long as the sun shines, its light can keep bouncing around inside the metal and do whatever bidding it desires. But what would happen...shall light be unable to pass?”

She only replied with confused silence. He grinned, and shot the weapon at the statuette. It fired a dark-colored energy beam, which hit the falcon-headed idol and spread all over it. In a matter of seconds, it lost its shine, and its golden surface turned a dull brownish color. The sunlight beam was still aimed right at it, and yet it didn't even bounce off the metal. Laguerra looked at the opposite wall again, and saw with wide eyes that the map has disappeared.

“I did it!”, Ambrosius jubilated. “See how all light drains from it? This is the power of the sunblack beam!”

“The...sunblack beam?”, she repeated, poking the statuette confusedly. “Is that what you've been working on? I thought your latest obsession was knowing why the Condor could fly on its own, and now I hear you're building...weapons?”

The arm of the idol crumbled away like a stale biscuit when she touched to it. The inside was the same rotten fruit color.

“Oh, I have my priorities figured out, you know! If I want to study the Golden Condor, I need to capture it first. And the best way to catch a bird, is to cut off its wings.”

He flicked the statuette, and the head came clean off, falling on the ground with a pebble noise. It shattered right on impact.

“Of course, it will sustain some damage in the process...but you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, after all. As long as the core and engine are still working, I don't mind it being unable to fly anymore.”

“Now just wait a second. I thought you wanted to capture it? And now you want to render it useless? Where is that plan of yours even going?”

“You shall see in due time.”

He pocketed the weapon in a sheath at his belt.

“But if my theories are correct...and if the ancient texts do not lie...”

His face split with an ugly, menacing grin.

“The secret of immortality will soon be in my hands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tao is totally getting revenge for that one time Esteban forced him to take a bath.


	9. Memory

Esteban was restless. But unlike all the other times he's traveled with this same restlessness driving him, this time he was full of questions.

He had thought he wouldn't have the time or the leisure to ask himself things anymore. But as he was flying, following the signal in his head towards the southern border of the desert, questions and doubts came crossing his mind like as many pesky mosquitoes buzzing over a swamp. There was still so much he didn't know, so much he wished he'd know.

Before, when he had questions and doubts like today, he used to turn to his friends. Whether it was Mendoza's adult wisdom on life and people, Zia's knowledge of lands and culture, Tao's insight into everything related to Mu in any way, or Pedro and Sancho's laid-back attitude and optimism, he knew he could find something to appease his doubts. There was always a piece of advice he could hear, an unseen detail that could change his perspective, another point of view he could take. There would always be one.

But now, he realized he was at a loss. None of the people he knew could tell him anything about his current condition. Neither of his friends could tell him what would happen and how and when. Nobody in the whole world could possibly reassure him and tell him he was doing right. For once in his life, he truly was alone.

He wondered whether he was right to follow that obscure lead towards a path he didn't recognize. He wondered about things he feared he was doing wrong. He wondered about all the things he had no way to know about, for he was pretty sure that if his transmutation was a common thing, he'd have heard of it by now, one way or another. 

But then again, this part of his heritage was lost to him. At least he'd have his whole life to rediscover it.

The sun was starting to go down, so he made his best to hurry before they'd be stranded in the middle of nowhere. He couldn't afford to let his friends down. He may be but their vehicle, but he was the one leading them onto this crazy chase, and he had to do right by them. Changing his angle slightly, he pushed on his tail and rushed some more, feeling a slight tremor run over him as he did so. Inside the cockpit, Zia had woken up.

_Mh...Esteban? Are we there yet?_

“Almost. We're close.” 

He could see there were plenty of structures underneath, like a city. There was some vegetation a little further ahead, on the border of the desert.

_There's ruins, lots of them. That one over there looks like a temple. Do you feel anything?_

“I'm not sure...but I don't have a lot of power left. I think it's safer if I land here just in case.”

He unfolded his legs, and hovered above the ruins until he found a wide enough space to land on, in what would once have been some public square in the middle of the ruins. It always made him quite sad to see the remains of what once was something great and glorious, lost to time and abandon.

_The temple does look like a good place to start looking. We'll be back before sundown._

“Alright. Be safe.” 

He opened his beak to let the crew come out and explore around. There was little need to watch over him, for sun was coming down and he'd be unable to fly. 

Unable to save his friends should they be in trouble.

He felt light from above. The pale half-moon was shining, peeking through some dusk-colored clouds and getting brighter by the second. It wouldn't be enough to make him fly, but he liked to imagine it. To fly at night under the stars, wouldn't that be impressive? To see the weak lights of towns below him, the moon reflected on the ocean? To be stealthy and discrete, gliding like a bat under the cover of the night? It would be the best thing to happen to him!

He needed to try. The sun was going down, and he felt his power wavering along, diminishing until he felt sleepy and tired; but he tried to keep his mind alert. Think of things. Stay awake! He played a song in his head, some old Spanish shanty he knew, to focus his energy elsewhere than dying down. The sky was red and he could barely see anything now, and if he still had a mouth he would have yawned. But he fought it like a guard on patrol, keeping himself busy. And since he couldn't move around or do anything physical, he choose to reminisce. To trace back his adventures.

The splendid Egyptian temples, with their statues, their decorations of gold and gemstones, their beautiful writing system all in pictures and allegories, their animal-headed gods and idols.

The jungles of India, its impressive forts, the strange and unknown animals lurking in the wild, the colorful garbs of people, the warm sand under his feet.

The beauty of the Japanese coastline, the massive silhouette of the Sakurajima volcano in the distance, the blue seas filled with fish and pearls, the ornate temples and lush forests.

The richness of Chinese landscapes, with green rice paddies stretching to the horizons, cities filled with sounds and smells, the cold of the snowy mountains, the gorgeous dragon statues found at almost every corner.

The warmth of the Inca lands, of the little towns on the mountain, the temples and ruins rich with history, the paths and rivers across which they've journeyed, the lovely music of villages, the green of the deep forests and plains.

The blue of the ocean, leagues upon leagues of blue ripples glimmering under the sun, the song of seagulls overhead, the lulling rocking of the ship under his feet, the flapping of sails and ropes in the wind, the voices of sailors all around.

The familiarity of Barcelona, the quiet halls of the monastery, the stone pavements of the street, the shouts and echoes of the marketplace, the pitter-patter of rain on the roofs and windows, the games of children in the street, the peace of the huge library with the large tomes and scrolls.

Calm, silence. Darkness, but not the scary kind. Familiarity. The feeling of a golden moon pendant in his closed hand. His treasure, his possession, his own little mystery. The little zigzag of his finger tracing over the patterns. His quest, his past and his future.

_The familiar walls of engraved white stone. The footsteps down the large halls, the whispers of the other maidens. The sound of voices chanting in unison. The gleaming golden statues, the colors of food and presents under the light of the torches. The lowered heads of pilgrims and worshipers, the few new faces that come. The intriguing, foreign face._

_His face. His smile. His voice. His hand. His laugh. His song. His arms. His hair. His embrace. His lips. His presence. His touch. His promise. His happiness. His surprise. His sorrow. His secret. His tears._

_Wayra. His cries. His hands. His smile. His life, his future, his chance, his father, his happiness._

_My happiness._

Esteban suddenly jolted, woken up from his sleep as if he'd been slapped in the face. His body was shaken with an unknown tremor, and he panicked. He couldn't see in the darkness, but he could feel the air whipping and dashing all around him. That's when he realized two things.

One, he was awake while it was way past sundown.

Two, he was currently in immense pain.

It came from his left wing, from his feathers to his joints, and it was such a new and unknown sensation. A searing, burning pain like he's never known, so much he didn't have anything to compare it with. It was vicious and severe, and it bit at him like a ferocious animal. He tried to scream, to let out any sort of thing that would ease this sensation, but all he managed to do was to tremble even more and shriek like a wild vulture. 

He tried to see, but his light refraction was too weak in the moonlight. However, a second later something very bright shone above him, and this time his tail hurt like it was being torn away from his body. He let out another wild bird noise, trying to move out of the way, but his body wasn't powered and he couldn't even twitch a feather. The pain seemed to spread, to climb up to his lower back, and he panicked like never before. He was a machine! Why was he feeling pain!? And what was causing it, for goodness's sake!?!

Something obscured the moonlight, making him almost completely blind. Something huge and slow, something flying. But it couldn't be! It couldn't... _he_ couldn't be here! He couldn't be here, not now, not here…

Oh great gods. It was all _a trap_ , wasn't it? He's noticed a strange signal in the middle of the desert, and he's followed it! How could he have been so _stupid!?_

He tried to move away, to take off, to unfold his wings. But in the wave of pain that was coursing through him, he couldn't feel his tail or his left wing anymore. He was paralyzed, mentally and physically, and he didn't know what to do. He tried calling for help, to reach out to anyone around, but he couldn't reach them. He couldn't do anything.

He felt his body being lifted, his head being forced up. There was a signal in his brain, similar to the one from Zia's medallion that'd command him to open his beak– but he couldn't do it. He didn't have the power to physically do it, and he knew that it would be a very bad idea to let that intruder– that _traitor_ – anywhere near his commands. His beak stayed shut tight, a defiance gesture from someone who couldn't do anything else to stop the enemy from taking over. The pain kept growing, spreading over his body, and he wanted to scream and squirm in distress and hurt, his body filling up with horrible sensations that itched and jolted at every corner of his remaining orichalcum flesh. He wanted to get out of here! He needed to!

The flying ship moved, and a ray of moonlight illuminated his face, bringing him a meager dose of energy. And just as his beak shone with its pale white light, a thought suddenly came to him. A command.

_“Get the sun emblem out!”_

He didn't have time or brain space to question it. He focused on the back of his head, on his dashboard, and located the emblem needed to activate him. He just had enough energy to do this, and he would! He tried, twisting his thoughts and power to do what was asked of him, to free himself as his body was being lifted up into the air. He didn't know how to do it, or even if he could do that in the first place, but he had nothing to lose. He twisted and pushed and tried to focus on that one spot of himself, concentrating his energy there, until he felt something wriggle.

In one swift mind-move, he ejected the sun emblem from its socket, and sounded out in triumph. The next second, everything faded to black.

~~~~~ 

“Let us go!”

“What are you trying to do with us?”

“Shut it already, you damned kids!”

Gaspard finished knotting up the ropes, and took some steps away from the squirming, thrashing duo of kids. Nearby, Mendoza's unconscious form was being closely guarded, and the panicked Sancho and Pedro were already tied up to a barrel.

“You won't get away with this!”, Tao shouted out, trying to break free.

“Oh, please.”, snickered Ambrosius as he came closer. “We're not trying to get anywhere. We can all stay here, and have a nice chat.”

“As if I'd ever have a chat with _you!_ ”

“What do you want from us!?”, Zia angrily asked.

Her only answer from the little man was a menacing grin, and a chuckle that didn't let anything good transpire. 

“You will see in due time, children. You will.”

The door opened, and Laguerra stepped in, sheathing her sword.

“The Condor's been secured. But I see no trace of the third kid.”

Ambrosius's eyes scoured over his captives, twisting his beard in his fingers.

“How unusual. I thought you three were like birds of a feather...could it be our young friend has decided to let go?”

“Don't you talk of Esteban like that! I'll...I'll kick your butt!”

That only made him grin some more.

“Well, well, well...I didn't expect anything less from Athanaos's little bastard, after all. He may be a mere half-breed, but he is displaying more prowess in Atlantean science than I would have thought. This only makes things easier.”

He clapped his hands, as if he was getting ready for something.

“Now, come on! We have to get started.”

“What are you going to do to him!? Answer!!”

“Oh, I will not hurt your friend, if that's what you're asking.”, he replied with an evil smile. “The sunblack beam only crippled him just enough. Your dear flying machine will not suffer...which makes it easier for me to take it apart piece by piece.”

“You monster!!”

All he did was a flattered hand gesture, before opening the door.

“Gaspard, I trust you to keep an eye on our guests. I have a bird to pluck.”

“Come back here! _Ambrosius!!_ ”

But instead, the man simply left, shutting the door behind.


	10. Light

Esteban doesn't know where he is.

All around him is darkness. This floaty feeling of not being anywhere in particular. He tries to feel his wings, his beak, but miserably fails. And he hates it.

There's no light around him. He can't see anything. He can't move, he can't feel, and he can't do anything about his condition. But if anything, he could still think somewhat clearly.

“This sucks.”

He was rather bitter about it, but who could blame him? His body was under attack, probably being pillaged by Ambrosius's greedy hands and plans, and all he did about it was abandoning ship. He'd have made a very bad sailor, he could feel it.

At least he wasn't in pain anymore, and that was a relief. He didn't know what could make a machine feel pain, but he figured it wasn't too different from being able to feel the wind under his wings or the earth under his feet. Now that pain was out of the way, he could focus a little more on what was going on.

He couldn't move. He had limited awareness of himself; all he knew was that he was...there. Where was “there”? Who knows. He sure didn't. At this point it could be way worse, so he wouldn't complain. But still, he wondered what would happen next. What he could do.

“Why?”

Why? Well, because...because it sucked, that's all! He was in a tricky situation, and he couldn't even change it! He felt stupid and useless in such a moment.

“Because.”

What else was there to say? Nothing he knew of, that was for sure. He didn't even feel like trying to justify himself.

“Can you try to give a more precise answer?”

Oh, of course he could. It's not like he had anything else to do, right now, besides wandering in darkness.

“Because...I wish I could know what's going on. But I don't. All I can is worry.”

Worry about his friends. His body. And a lot of other things that were slipping out of his mind right now, but that he still worried about.

“Your worry shows you still care. That's not useless at all.”

If he still had shoulders, he would have shrugged.

“I wish I could be doing something more. My friends are likely in danger, and here I am, complaining about things.”

“What would you do, if you could do anything you wanted?”

He tried to think about it. He didn't have a lot of options, really, even if his body were still in pristine sunlit condition.

“I...I would fly to them. I would save them. And I would crash the traitor's ship.”

He could _swear_ he's heard a chuckle in the back of his mind.

“That is one bold plan. But would your body withstand it? What if it is currently restrained away from sunlight? And what if your friends are aboard that ship?”

Those were very likely to be true. Ambrosius wasn't stupid, he'd have made sure the Condor was put somewhere light wouldn't reach. Which maybe explained this darkness all around.

"...I don't know, then. I don't know what I would do.”

“That is wise of you to say. One who does not have the answer and admits he is wrong has more chances to succeed than one who believes his plans are right from the start.”

That wasn't wrong. But it didn't give him any more leads.

“So what should I do, then? How can I get out of this mess?”

The mess he's caused all by himself. Everything that happened was his fault, and he felt horribly guilty about it.

“Look around.”

He tried. He tried to focus his mind, to see all the light he could see. To focus on every little speck that would still reach him. And he failed.

“There's nothing. Only darkness.”

“That's because you're trying to see with your condor eyes. With a massive body of many angles. What you need, is a more humble perspective.”

A more...humble perspective? What did that mean? He pondered that question for a moment, unsure at all, until it came to him.

“The sun emblem! I...I threw it out of its socket, and I deactivated right after. The Condor can't fly unless the emblem is in its place...wait, does that mean…?”

“That your conscious and mine are saved within that little sun disk.”

It all made so much sense now! That explained why he couldn't move, and only had limited perception of his surroundings. 

“This makes sense. But how can I know when to come out? And how will I...”

He stopped. The light had shifted, in what he recognized now to be the Condor's cockpit. Something just had moved.

“Something's coming!”, he warned, unsure of whether this warning was of any use at all. 

There was something moving around. Something big and wobbly, something living. Could it be a monster? No, wait. He needed to think with another perspective. He needed to- ow! The thing had just bumped into him.

“Watch where you're going!”, he said out of reflex.

The thing stopped, and shuffled. And it touched to him again.

_Esteban?_

If he still had eyelids, he would have blinked in surprise. He recognized that crooning voice!

“Pichu! Pichu, is that you?”

_Esteban!_

“Pichu, here. Can you pick up the sun emblem? Get me into the light, please.”

There was some hesitation from the parrot, before he managed to pick up the sun disk in his beak and bring it into the light. It had fallen under a seat when Esteban had yanked it out, which explained why he could barely see anything. Pichu managed to lift up the device and drop it on the pilot's seat, where much more light was passing. Esteban recovered some sense of sight already, and this was a relief.

It was still dark. The moon was shining weakly. The Condor's head was open, and there was a faint wind blowing; he was outside. From this point of view, Pichu looked like a giant mass of moving feathers.

“Pichu, where are the others? Do you know?”

_Ambrosius, Ambrosius! Tao gone! Zia gone! Capture, capture!_

That horrible fiend! What did he do to them? He tried to think of a plan, of a way to save them before it was too late.

“And where is he now? What is he going to do? Can you tell me?”

_Esteban, help! Help!_

And he flew around in distress. Esteban wouldn't learn much more from him, but at least it was better than nothing.

“I don't get it.”, he sighed. “What does he want, now? He already has the double medallion, and I'm sure he's on his way to the fifth City now.”

What could he want? Did he happen to fall upon a riddle he needed them to solve? Did he want to force Tao and Zia to lead the way to the city? Something in all of this didn't make sense…

He thought back to the signal he's followed. The bait he caught without even thinking. Why would he put up a trap like this, to some old ruins with likely nothing to them? There was no sixth City of Gold here, not this close to the trail of the fifth one. This didn't add up.

And when Esteban and his friends got there, Ambrosius attacked him directly. Night had long fallen by then, he would have been out of power anyway. Did Ambrosius want the Condor for himself? But he already had his flying ship…

A ship he's tried to attack. On his own. A ship no one was piloting, something Ambrosius surely must have noticed.

Was he...was he aware that Esteban's soul had merged with that of the Condor? But even if he did, what would he want with him? 

“I don't understand! I don't understand anything anymore!”

He was fed up, and tired. He barely had the energy to think, in such weak light. He didn't know what was going on, and he hated it. All he wanted was to see his friends again, and to fly out of here, never to return. He's had enough of this, and could only blame himself. 

He wanted to cry, but had no eyes to do so. And that's maybe what he hated most in all of this.

“What is it you don't understand?”

“I don't know what I'm doing here. Why Ambrosius is after me. What in the world he _wants_ with me!”

He shut himself off, like a brooding kid in a bad mood. He didn't get anything, he felt like he was in the wrong. And no one was here to help him, now.

No one except that voice.

"...who even are you?”, he asked after a time, exasperated. “You're someone I know, that's for sure. But whom?”

There was silence for a long moment. Esteban feared he had offended them somehow, that he had said something wrong. But eventually, the voice came back.

“I have been with you ever since you first set your eyes on me. Ever since you retrieved my body from the heart of Mount Pachamama.”

Mount Pachamama? That was the volcano next to the big lake, where they thought they've found the first City of Gold. But instead of houses and streets paved with solid gold, all they found was stone, boiling lava, and…

"...the Golden Condor.”

His heart would have skipped a beat, if he still had one.

“That's who you are? The Golden Condor? Are you...its soul?”

The voice took another moment to reply.

“I believe that is true.”

And so Esteban's voice filled with wonder.

“Why, that's...that's amazing! I didn't know the Condor even _had_ a soul! I mean, that'd explain what I'm doing here...but wow, that's...that's still so wild to know!”

It only took a few words from that voice to make him forget his worries and his bad mood. Instead, excitement took over his still childish mind.

“You must be hundreds...no, thousands of years old! Have you met the people of Mu? Do all orichalcum vessels have a soul? How did you end up over that mountain? Where–“

“Oh, please, Esteban!”, the voice stopped him, with a hint of amusement. “Please, that is way too many questions. I would love to try to answer them, but you'll understand we do not have the time. Please, my child, calm down a little.”

“Sorry. I'm just...wow, to think that I've piloted you all this time, and I never even realized…!”

“You couldn't have known. And...to be fair with you, I didn't want you to know.”

“What? Why not?”

Again, another moment of thoughtful silence.

“I do not know myself. Perhaps the time wasn't right. Perhaps I was afraid it would distract you from your quest. So I said nothing, and I waited...and as I did so, I watched.”

He could swear the voice now sounded...endeared.

“I watched you and your friends as you went onto your adventures. I learned about the kind of person you were, how you acted and how you thought. I saw you mature and grow up. I may have only known you for a year of your life, but I am glad I did.”

Esteban felt a little flustered at that. All this time he's piloted the Condor, there was a soul within, a consciousness that had watched over him. And it was _happy_ about it.

“Well...thank you. I...I don't know what to say, but...if you're happy, so am I, Condor.”

He paused for a moment.

“No, wait. Golden Condor is just a nickname we gave you. But I know all machines of Mu have a real name, so...do you mind if I have yours?”

The voice seemed to hesitate. Again, he wondered he had done something wrong, offended that presence who has been so nice to him. But he heard it speak again, this time in a softer tone.

“My name is Killa. That is all I know.”

He knew there was something behind that implication. But for now, he overlooked it.

“It's very nice to meet you, Killa. I mean...we've met before, but now I know your name.”

It was a very pretty name, he thought.

“It's very nice to know yours, Esteban.”

Outside, the moon reappeared from behind clouds, and his surroundings shone brighter, reminding him of where he was. Of what he had to do.

“Killa, do you have any idea of what Ambrosius wants from us? I have a feeling he didn't capture us for no reason.”

“I have one, indeed.”

The light of the moon was now bathing the cockpit in its soft pale gleam, giving everything a gentle hue. He kept his attention on it, as he listened carefully to the Condor's tale. 

“I was once told that while the people of Mu had a great knowledge of mechanics and machines, the people of Atlantis knew of the human body and soul like no one.”

Little by little, a vision came to him. A memory that wasn't his own, that Killa was sharing with him. An image of people surrounded in a golden light.

“They knew of the weakness of the human body, of how it would break down as it aged. And they sought a way to undo the effects of time.”

“The secret of immortality.”

His father had once said something about it, when he told him of his time with the Order of the Hourglass. The alchemists' quest for everlasting life. The goal of the Order, along with the way to create orichalcum from nothing.

“They eventually found it. Their knowledge has since then been lost, but the order of alchemists is trying to find it again.”

“But what does it have to do with us?”

“Think of it for a moment. Do you know something else, that alchemists have tried to find, to study again and again? Something whose mysteries they want to uncover?”

He thought. His first guess naturally went to the Cities of Gold, and the knowledge they held. Knowledge on science, machines, magic and powerful weaponry. It wouldn't surprise him that they also held the secret of everlasting life. 

“There is a saying amongst the ranks of the Order.”, continued the voice. “As someone once told me, their two main goals are much more intricately linked than they believe. They may even be one and the same.”

But what did that have to do with him? He wasn't immortal. Even though he was a descendant of Atlantis, he was just a child, whose soul was currently inhabiting a giant condor. He was in no way immortal, for he…

He had…

...now wait just a second. He definitely died, didn't he? He died! He's dead, his friends have been at his funeral, and his flesh body was now buried in Patala, where his father was staying! Yet how come he was still here? How come his soul was still intact, stuck in the orichalcum body of this big bird?

And slowly, it came to him. He saw what this was all about. He saw where Killa was trying to lead him, what was going on with him. What Ambrosius wanted.

"...the secret of immortality.”, he said in a breath. “The weakness of the human body...the answer, the secret is to switch it for a body that never dies! That's the secret, that's what he wants!!”

That's how Esteban managed to live. He died, and yet his soul was still there.

“And now that he's gotten his hands on us, he'll find it for sure! He'll find out how it works, and he'll make himself invincible and immortal!”

It dawned on him how deep was the trouble he's just gotten in, and how disastrous everything would be if Ambrosius got what he wanted.

“We have to stop him! We can't let him win!”

“Your determination is nice to see. But our wing and tail are still damaged. Even if we had sunlight, we would not be able to take off.”

“But we can't stay here either!”

“Esteban, please calm down. Think of a plan before acting on it.”

A plan. What kind of plan? What could he do to get himself and his friends out of trouble? Nothing, that's what! He was stuck here, and couldn't do anything about it.

“It doesn't matter whether or not I have one. I can't move from here, anyway.”

“Why would you say that?”

He wished he still had arms, so he could dramatically show everything going on around him.

“Because you said yourself, my consciousness is trapped in the sun emblem, which is definitely not meant to move! And even if I could put it back in the Condor, we're still wounded and in the middle of the night.”

It's a wonder he was awake at all. 

“Can I entrust you in on a secret?”

To be fair, that got his attention.

“What secret?”

“Imagine that you are stuck in one place, unable to move your body. However, you can throw your senses away from you, and see and hear what's happening elsewhere. You can create a projection of yourself, that moves around freely while your soul remains in the same spot.”

“You mean...I can _actually_ get out of here?”

“You can go beyond the Condor's body for a time, indeed.”

If he could, he would have jittered up in eagerness.

“What is it? How do you do it? Please show me!”

“Esteban, calm down. I can show you, but I will need you to keep your calm and pay attention. We only have until sunrise.”

To be fair, paying attention has never been his forte. It's a wonder he managed to learn how to read at all, given how boring lessons were at the monastery.

"...do I really have to?”, he attempted.

“Don't be afraid, it will not be a lesson in the way you think. For I can show you directly, from my mind to yours, how to proceed.” 

He got another image in his mind, of pretty landscapes and sunrises. Curious, he tried to send one in return, a memory of a lovely sunrise over the ocean. This was a very neat form of communication...which likely explained some dreams he's had.

“Believe me, you will not have the time to get bored or distracted, for it is very intuitive. That is how I learned it myself.”

“Well, if you say so.”

He tried to calm down and refrain his nervousness. To listen to what Killa had to tell him, and to show him. To open his heart.

The voice spoke again, quiet and warm. Familiar.

“Just as your father taught me the Atlantean secret of transmutation, I will now teach you the Muian secret of moving light.”

~~~~~ 

“What do you mean, it doesn't work?”

“That's what I've been trying to tell you! It's inactive, it refuses to open!”

“It's just a machine, how can it refuse anything?”

Ambrosius held up the double medallion again, but the Condor stubbornly kept its beak closed, causing him to almost fume with rage.

“Very well, then! I don't need access to the commands. After all, I will do just fine on my own.”

He readjusted the parameters of the sunblack ray, and fired it at the Condor's stomach, a very thin beam that cut an opening in the beast's body. Part of its hull fell, exposing the gears and mechanisms inside.

“As long as I can get the core out, the rest is just useless decoration.”

It was a mess of cogs and pistons inside, which were inactive at the moment. How strange, but he wasn't going to question it now. He cut away at some of them, causing pieces to fall off and crumble away into rotten metal, as he pushed deeper inside the bird's bowels.

There were but gears and mechanics in there. Nothing different from any other engine-powered machine he's seen. With some difficulty, he squirmed out of there, landing back on solid ground.

“Laguerra, my dear. We need to get this beast to uncover its secrets. Climb up there and see if you can open it.”

She looked up at the Condor's head, still perched up in its haughty pose.

“What? Up there?”

“Come on, now! We've already lost enough time as is, we have to hurry. Get this thing open, come on!”

She tried to protest, but kept her mouth shut, walking around the impressive creature. Bracing herself, she got a hold of the tail, and started climbing from there, careful not to touch any of the rotten parts. Her boss didn't make her task very easy, for most of the area was now a dull, crumbly brown mess that'd likely never fly again. 

As she carefully made her way up, Ambrosius picked up some pieces that had fallen. The rot was slowly spreading like mold on rye, making him smirk.

“It's a shame, really...”, he said to no one in particular. “You've chosen quite an impressive beast to merge with, my boy. I expected no less of you.”

He cut open another part of the bird's body, to uncover the complex systems underneath its gilded skin.

“You've grown quite attached to this machine, how could it be otherwise? And I understand, I genuinely do. Had it been a little more spacious, I would have chosen it as my main vehicle as well.”

Still no trace of anything resembling a core. Needless to say, he was getting impatient.

“But this is not your doing. Never would a little half-breed like you be able of mastering an art even the most eminent alchemists are still struggling to envision.”

Without warning, he stabbed the beam into the Condor's side, in a fit of anger. The rotten parts crumbled off some more, and Laguerra nearly fell from her risky climb.

“I know you can hear me in there, Esteban! Don't play innocent with me. Reveal to me how you did it, or I will make sure you and your friends never see the sun rise again! Reveal to me who helped you!”

Up on the Condor's neck, Laguerra had finally managed to get to the open cockpit. She let herself slip down there, relieved to have something solid under her feet again.

“He thinks he's funny with his orders...”, she muttered to herself. “Do I look like I know how this thing works?”

The lights on the dashboard were all off, and there was no piloting tools. She started by touching things at random, patting here and there, trying to see any way to activate it. How come a bunch of kids could do it, and she couldn't? Truly there was something off in here.

In the distance, the sun started to rise. She feared it would mean a sudden activation of the huge machine; but to her relief, nothing of the sort happened. No sudden bootup, no weird noises.

“Well, at least you're not getting anywhere, big bird.”

She sat down on the pilot's seat, imagining herself riding this huge beast through the sky for a moment, and quickly discarded that vision on account of how stupid it was. That's when she felt something under her thigh; standing up, she saw some sort of engraved metal disk in the folds of the seat.

"...of course.”

She picked it up, looked it over. It was very likely this thing fit into the hole on the dashboard. Only one logical thing to do, then.

As she went to fit it in, however, she heard someone speaking.

_I would not do that if I were you._

She froze right in her steps. That voice…! That was the kid's!

“You! So you _are_ alive!”

_Are you so sure about that? You saw it, though. You saw it very clearly._

A shiver ran down her spine. It couldn't…it couldn't be!

_You saw me fall to my death._

“You're lying! That's just a trick, isn't it!?”

She was trying to keep her composure, despite her nervousness and rising fear. From the ground, Ambrosius's voice somehow came to her.

“What is taking so long? Open up this thing, the sun is rising!”

Its light was slowly spreading over the Condor's body, wrapping it in a golden gleam whose refractions made her feel dizzy. She stepped back, holding onto the seat for support, her legs trembling.

_You saw me die, Isabella. You know what caused it, don't you? You and your crew are responsible for this!_

“You're lying! You're lying!” 

_I am telling the truth! And for your crimes, you will all be punished!_

She threw the sun emblem down, more than she dropped it out of fright. It was too much to bear, too much to imagine! And now, thanks to Ambrosius's actions, she would be forever haunted by the restless spirit of this child they killed!

“Laguerra! Answer at once!”

He had to do everything himself, didn't he? Very well! Ambrosius got a hold of the Condor's tail, and started climbing up as well. The sun kept spreading, running over every exposed part of the gigantic machine, but he was confident that it wouldn't take off. He was way too close to his goal for it to fail! Holding on like he could with his hands, he managed to reach the beast's back, keeping low to not lose his balance. From there, he could see his assistant's crouching form in the cockpit.

“Well, then? What's taking so long? I can't trust you with anything, really...”

To his surprise, she turned to him with wide eyes.

“We need to leave, Ambrosius! Now!”

That only got a scoff out of him.

“Leave? What's gotten into you? We're not leaving, not when we're so close!”

He dropped down into the cockpit, looking around.

“Will you look at this! The sun emblem is missing. Every vehicle needs a key, and this one doesn't have it!”

“I'm serious. We need to leave, now! We've caused enough trouble as is!”

“Trouble? We could have had everything, if these pesky kids hadn't been meddling with us! And now that they're handing us the ultimate goal on a platter, you expect me to _leave_?”

He laughed. A menacing, wicked laugh that twisted his gremlin face. She couldn't stand this sight, and yet she forced his hands on his shoulders.

“This is not about goals anymore! Don't you realize what happened? We _killed_ this child, and now he's coming back to haunt us!”

He scoffed, and pushed her away. 

“I have no time for superstitions! This kid was stupid enough to cause his own end, he's got no one to blame but himself!”

He searched around for the sun emblem, disregarding Laguerra's frightened expression.

“I thought you were more reasonable than this.”

“I _am_ reasonable. And I'm not staying here if it means angering ghosts.”

“Ghosts! These are just frivolous inventions of people to stop them from killing one another. I never had any problem with it, why would I start now?”

He stood up, twisting his beard thoughtfully.

“The emblem is nowhere to be seen. I'm sure the others have taken it with them.”

Laguerra blinked, her nervous grip on the seat tightening.

“That's...that can't be! It was right there, I saw it!”

“Right there? And why didn't you bring it to me, instead of hiding like a coward?”

She did not have time to answer. For while they were bickering, the sun had finally risen, and was now enveloping the Condor in its warm light. It diffused in the air like a veil, blurring everything and forcing them to shut their eyes tight. And that's when they heard a voice, coming from right above.

_Pichu, now!!_

Something sounded out, like a fast ruffle in the air, followed by a click. Ambrosius opened his eyes despite the light, and saw the green parrot headbutting the emblem in place.

The Condor trembled, and sunlight bounced all around it, coating it in a blinding armor that drew a scream out of him as he tried to protect his eyes. He fell down on his knees, colored stars appearing in every corner of his vision, holding onto anything he managed to get his hand on. The head of the Condor rose up and its beak opened, almost making them fall out, and its wings spread under the sun. 

“You're not getting away, this time!”, Ambrosius shouted out, trying to see through the searing-hot light.

But then, said light moved, as if animated by something. Through his shielding fingers, he saw it take shape, gathering on the back of the bird's neck. It was impossibly hard to see clearly, even when it started to recede; but he could hear something. A voice, the clear voice of a child that he knew only too well.

_I'll go and save my friends. You take care of these two._

And right immediately, another voice. An older, more imposing voice.

_This one is not getting anywhere after what he did to me._

The child-shaped bundle of light snickered, and leaped off the Condor.


	11. Wings

Esteban's feet touched to the ground.

Almost immediately, everything around him got drowned in raw sunlight. It bounced off every surface in reach, going crazy in its own structured patterns, and came back to him like an echo of his own light. And just like that, he managed to see where he had landed, what was all around him and even the way they moved and reacted to him. Just like in the Condor's body.

But unlike his former type of light vision, this was much more intense. The light was everywhere, emanating from him instead of simply coming to him. It was overwhelming, making him dizzy and disoriented, and much more faster. Everything around him seemed to move in slow motion, and he didn't understand what was going on.

He tried to turn around, to see the gigantic form of the Condor, a glimmering bird shape in the mess of light that was his field of vision. It was moving, twisting about, writhing as the light powered it and as it tried to fight off the invaders that were desperately holding on to it.

He knew Killa was strong, and would easily win over them even when wounded. He had nothing to worry about. For now, he needed to find his friends.

He leaped forward in a run start, but everything suddenly accelerated around him and he found himself several dozen feet from where he had stepped. Disoriented, he tried to stop himself from going even further, and to return to where he was. But that only resulted in him getting more and more lost, and to almost crash into some ruins.

“Esteban!”

It was Killa's voice.

“What are you doing? Hurry up!”

“I'm trying!”

He tried to get back onto his feet from where he fell, but only tripped more. His body was lighter than a feather, and his own movements seemed too fast, putting him off balance every time he moved so much as a finger.

“I can't control myself! It's too fast!”

“You have to try!”

The Condor was trying to take off and get Ambrosius and Laguerra off its cockpit, but it was difficult to do so with a faulty tail. It was perhaps as off-balance as him, with its wounded wing. Yet the voice kept sounded out in his head, through some light-borne connection the two of them shared.

“Don't think with ordinary physics.”, it continued. “Just focus on where you want to go, and go!”

“That's easier said than done!”

The flying ship was likely where his friends were held. He needed to focus and get there, if he wanted to save them! Don't think with physics. Do as you've been instructed.

He gathered his forces, and jumped up, letting the light guide him. As expected, he weighed next to nothing, and ended up way higher than he would have liked. But at least he could correct his fall, and land where he wanted. He reached out and grabbed one of the sails, sliding down in an awkward manner until he ended up on the ship's deck. Talk of a strange way to get somewhere!

Even though it was disorienting, it did make sense. What he considered his current body was made of pure light, a secret Killa had carefully taught him and that reminded him of the luminoprojections of the Great Sages, that they've seen in the second City of Gold. The ancient secret of moving light, as perfected by the people of Mu, and that allowed him to craft a temporary vessel of solid light to host his soul. This definitely was somewhere up the strangest experiences he's known in his life, but right now he had other things to do than to ponder on it.

_What in the world is going on!?_

He turned around, always at that dramatic speed, and managed to see someone coming his way amongst the brightness. And seeing the way they had their sword drawn, they weren't very friendly. Instinctively, he raised his fists, in a defensive posture.

They rushed at him, but their movements appeared slow and easily predictable. Esteban had no trouble quickly stepping aside and avoiding the blow of their blade, this time ending up much less farther than before. Quickly returning to his initial position, he pushed them down onto the deck, making them trip and saving him some time. The brightness around was starting to be obscured by something he didn't recognize, a darkness moving around that veiled the path of light. He ignored it, and set to work his way down.

He tried to open the doors to the lower deck, but had no idea of how to do so. Frustrated, he banged his luminous fists on the wood, and they made no sound whatsoever. However, the more he touched them, the more they spawned this dark veil that blurred his vision. He was about to wonder what was going on, when everything became bright again, and the door opened on its own. Quickly, he made his way down, and that's when he heard.

His friends were there. And they were crying for help.

“Tao! Zia!”

He rushed to their side, not without moving all over the place again like an excited firefly. They screamed at his approach, but he had no reason to blame them.

“Are you alright?”

_Esteban! You have to help us get out of here!_

_The ship's burning down!_

“Burning…?”

He looked around. In the mild darkness of the room, bright spots were moving over the walls, slowly but surely, spawning more of that blurry shadow. In a thrust of realization, he saw this was actually fire and smoke that were forming whenever he stepped.

He was pure sunlight, and his mere touch was a burning weapon.

“Quick! Let's get you out of there!”

He quickly located their binds, and went to undo them. But restrained himself, and instead very slowly touched to the ropes, which broke into hot bits after a second. Tao and Zia quickly stepped away, and went to help the others, still coughing from all that smoke.

_We have to return to the Condor!_

“We can't, it's still wounded!”

He banged on the door to the outside, and his fists quickly burned through it, opening a big enough way. Everything was starting to get darker, and flaming boards and beams were falling onto them. The ship would not stand much longer.

“Get out, everyone! I'll be right there!”

Leaping off, he jumped into the air again, and landed on the Condor's wing. Killa was still trying to shake the intruders off, but Ambrosius was holding tight onto the steering shaft.

 _I will_ not _let a mere machine be stronger than me! You will do as I say!_

_Ambrosius, the ship is burning! We have to get out of here!_

Esteban fumed in rage at the idea of this man laying his hands on his orichalcum body. In one fast step, he got right at his level, and grabbed his arm as hard as he could. The man screamed and tried to get away, his sleeve burning along with the skin underneath. In doing so, he let go of the commands, and the Condor quickly dropped its head to throw him off-balance. He leaped off and bounced around in the air, landing on its neck.

“Killa, are you alright? Will you be able to fly out out of here?”

“I can try and force it, but that will definitely damage my tail. We can't afford that.”

His friends were coming over, escaping the ship whose flames were still burning high. He tried to quickly think of a way to get everyone out of here.

“Do you think we can repair the damage?”

“Don't even think about it!”

“What? Why do you say that? Is there a way, or not?”

“Esteban, no. You don't have enough energy left to drive the corruption away!”

“But we can't just stay here where they can catch us!”

Through a touch of his hand to the machine's neck, he forced its beak open so his friends could get in. But suddenly, something on the ship exploded, and the earth shook under their feet. Sand flew everywhere, stones of the ruins fell down, and more rotten orichalcum crumbled away.

“We have to!”, he insisted. “We're in direct danger! If the ship's engines explode again, we might not survive it!”

“The Condor will protect your friends from damage. Nothing will be able to hurt it.”

“Don't say that! You're not indestructible, we both know it! Please, let me help!”

“You don't understand! You won't be able to survive this! And I can't fathom losing you again!”

“Why can't you just trust me? Why won't you let me do this?”

“Because if you try to heal that damage by yourself, you'll never recover from it! You're too young! You've only been the Condor's soul for a month, whereas I've been here for fourteen years!”

At that, only silence came from him. Shocked, confused silence.

“Fourteen…? But…I thought you were as old as Mu?”

Killa didn't reply. Esteban could feel the light around him waiver, and he understood his luminous form was slowly fading away. How long has he been out of his body?

“You're already disappearing.”, the other said. “You can't hold a solid form for more than ten minutes. Can you imagine what would happen if you tried to repair this damage all by yourself? You'd definitely be lost, and I would never see you again.”

Another explosion shook the ship, and the cries of his friends barely came to him in his silent confusion.

“If one of us has to do this, it has to be me. I've been in this body for longer than you have, I know how it works. I know how to use my light.”

He tried to think of something to answer. He tried to say something, to counter these arguments, but found nothing. So he lowered his head in defeat, and let his light come back inside his physical body.

He felt his wings, his beak again. He felt the pain that still nabbed at him. He felt the power, the might of the Condor, all contained within himself. He felt the effects of gravity and his own weight pressing against him again.

And he felt miserable that he couldn't do anything to help himself.

“You really are a stubborn child.”, Killa said, somewhere in the back of his soul. “But you are a caring one. You have your mother's kindness.”

“How could you know?”

To that, he was only met with some amusement.

“Believe me. I know her way better than you think.”

And before he could say anything, the light bounced out in every single corner of his being.

It was as if all that built-up energy within him had suddenly decided to release. He could feel every little pore and crevice of orichalcum getting filled with light, every little particle inside getting full of energy and raw potential. The pain that he could still feel in his feathers seemed to be pushed away, swept away by this force that kept expanding and rebounding in his body, a force that he had trouble keeping still and contained.

The ship was spitting out dangerous black smoke that slowly filled the air. The turbines had already blasted, but if the main engine was to blow up, then the Condor would suddenly be caught in its damage. He tried to keep steady as sensation came back into his wing and tail, slowly. Very slowly; way, way too slowly.

“Are you alright?”, he asked inside of himself. “Do you think you can do it?”

“I can!”, assured Killa. “But the smoke is obscuring sunlight...the Condor's starting to power down!”

He could feel it, now. He was starting to feel more numb, his wings slowly losing sensation.

“I won't let this happen! Hang on tight!”

He focused up, to the sky getting covered in fiery darkness. This was the moment everyone expected him to act...but he wasn't sure whether he would be able at all to do it. Would his soul still manage to reach out to whoever could listen to it? He didn't believe it a single second.

But he had to try. He took in a big breath of light, and made his soul voice sound out.

“Mighty Sun, I do not know whether you can hear me in this form. I do not know whether you can still recognize me. But my friends and I need you more than ever. Please, Sun, make your rays pierce through the darkness! Chase away the shadows, and illuminate the Golden Condor!”

His body gleamed under the force of his wish, under the power he still didn't want to call his own. He thought it had failed, and already regretted his naivety; but a second later, the sun shone even brighter, and gusts of winds blew the black smoke away. He felt the warm rays hitting his back, and they filled him with hope and energy as he became aware of his body again. His engine activated, the cogs and pistons churning away for all to see through his exposed stomach, and his thrusters it up.

“That should do it. Fly us out of here, Esteban, as fast as you can!”

No need to ask him twice. He pushed on his tail, raised his wings, and took off into the sky in a dash of golden light. The moment after, the ship exploded in a blast of flames and thunder, pushing him even further into the air.

He was wounded. He was shook. But he was alive! They were all alive! Once the initial shock passed, celebratory shouts sounded out among the crew, and they were well-deserved.

_That was so amazing!! Did you see all these flames?!_

_And how you turned yourself into fire!_

_Can we please...never do this again in our lives, ever?_

_Victory, victory!_

He wanted to smile and shout along, but had no lips to do so. So instead, all he did was barreling in the air like he knew how to do, shaking his equipage a little more. Whoops, sorry there.

But despite his happiness, there was still something holding him back. Letting the Condor slow down to a cruise speed, he looked into himself, trying to reach out to this other soul inhabiting the machine.

“Killa? Are you there?”

Nothing answered, and his worry only rose. He thought they were done for, that the healing process had achieved them, but slowly he got a reply. Muted, silent, but a reply nonetheless.

“I'm here.”

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? Should I land? I-”

“Esteban, please. Calm down.”

It was quite hard to keep calm when his friend was likely about to die!

“I'll be fine. But I lost a lot of energy, and the healing process isn't complete. I will need more time to fully repair the Condor.”

“You need to rest. I'll take over, you can pilot in my stead while I-”

“Esteban.”

That somewhat stern tone calmed him down.

“I will be fine. But I need to rest and recover. I may be older than you, but this still took a lot from me. I think it's time for me to return to sleep.”

“Wait!”

He tried to assemble his thoughts. To formulate what he wanted to ask. But this was useless, since the two of them shared a mental bond of sorts, and everything he was thinking of could potentially be seen.

"...there's so much I don't know.”, he finally said.

Killa didn't reply right away. Perhaps some questions just couldn't be answered, or so he thought.

“There is so much I want you to know. But you have a quest to complete first, and I don't want to distract you from it.”

"...I know.”

He kept flying ahead, towards a safer landing place.

"...can I ask you a question, then? Only one.”

“Anything.”

He tried to think of a way to fit all of his questions into one. And needless to say, it was a very tough choice. So he just went with what he wouldn't be able to figure out by himself.

“Who's Wayra?”

There was silence for a time. And then, the sensation of an endeared smile.

“Wayra is the name your father and I chose for you, when you were born.”

He pondered over that answer for a moment. And then, he smiled in turn.

For everything was starting to make sense. Everything was coming together. And he didn't know how to feel about it, for he had no more heart to feel with; but he still had a soul that gleamed with happiness, and a mind to put together all the answers to his doubts.

“Thank you. For everything you ever did for me.”

“I would do even more, if it means you can live on.”

He knew he had no shoulders anymore, and that it was all phantom sensations. But for a moment, for a slight moment, he felt something strange and soft, as if warm arms had wrapped around them. And in that moment, he knew what it was all about, and enjoyed that sensation he's never known before, this touch he didn't know he needed after all this time.

“I love you.”, he whispered in a breath.

“I love you.”, she replied just as softly.

And just like that, the feeling disappeared. He tried to reach for it again, to make it last longer, to have it never end. But he knew it would be useless. So he just let it happen, and said nothing else.

He kept flying in silence, the pain in his body now a numb sensation. He would eventually heal, and it would go away. And then, he would only have to wait until the time was right, to try and call to her again. Maybe by then, they would be able to talk more...at least he hoped so. He still had so many questions to ask. 

_...Esteban?_

It was Zia's calm voice that drove him out of his thoughts.

“I'm here.”

_Your lights have gone very strange for a moment. Are you...are you alright?_

“Yeah...yeah, I’m alright. Just a little shaken.”

He flew towards the sun, following what route felt most logical. He followed his instinct, deciding to trust his body and its quest for more light. In all the times that he had piloted the Condor, he had always trusted it to make the right decisions, and followed them to the letter. And now that he was one with his winged machine, he understood what truly drove his gears and turned his beak towards the next goal of their quest. It was just meant to be, after all.

“Let's continue.”, he decided. “Our quest is far from over.”

_Ready when you are._

He felt Zia's hands grasp the steering shaft, awaiting his lead. He grinned in his head, and in a thrust of his tail, dashed towards the sun.

~~~~~

_The cannon shoots. This time, it nearly misses, but hits the wall of the temple behind us. I can see the stones and spikes falling down right above as large cracks spread all over. I want to go away, but I go in the wrong direction, and one of the metal spikes stabs my arm._

_Right into the joints. I can't bend my wing, it's stuck in this position. My course gets twisted and I cannot regain control. They're screaming something unclear, but all I want is to get away from here, to evade the fire of the ship's cannons. But I can't, his hands are too stubborn on my commands. I regain some height, pushing on my tail to evade the assault, but my bent wing refuses to obey correctly. I start to get afraid._

_Suddenly, he lets go of the commands. The cockpit opens, and I feel something on my back. No! Don't tell me he's trying to get the spike out by himself?! I stabilize as much as I can, for we are horribly high above ground, and even the broken temple feels tiny from here. The ship is coming back up, it's trying another attack, and my fear turns to panic._

_The sun reappears from the clouds, and I feel it shine bright on my hull. I feel the tension in my wing disappear. He's done it! I straighten up my wing, taking more light onto it, but his footsteps become more disordered._

_The cannon shoots again. Quickly, whoever pilots me now orders me to dodge. I do so, avoiding the shot, but the footsteps suddenly disappear from me. With horror, I see his body falling down._

_I act out of panic. I dive like a falcon, trying to beat the speed of his fall. Whoever pilots me struggles to get a hold of my wings, but I refuse to let them. I push even faster, stopping a few feet above the ground, and position myself. He'll fall right into my neck, and be safe! The others will catch him!_

_But in my hurry, I miscalculated. He doesn't fall where I expected him to. Instead, I hear something crashing down on my hull, something heavy that makes my metal feathers vibrate. I hear something breaking._

_Time comes to a stop. It's like my heart has stopped beating a second time. I hear a scream, and another, and panicked voices all around. I don't know what to do. I want to scream, I want to cry, but I can't, trapped as I am in this metal body. I'm stuck and I'm scared, and he's now going to die by my fault, and guilt washes over me like a wave that drags me over in its rampage, and I cannot do anything, and I can't, please, tell me this is over,_ tell me this is not happening, please, anyone…

_In the middle of these horrible feelings, a thrust of lucidity comes to me. I remember the secret Athanaos has taught me. The secret of immortality, of putting one's soul within an orichalcum machine. The secret he gave me so that I could survive._

_It is a crazy idea, but I have none other. So I go in, and reach out. I reach out to him, call for him with the desperation of a mother searching for her child. I'm scared, and I know he is scared as well. But I'll be there, I'll be there for him, and I will not let him disappear._

_In the darkness is where I hear his voice. A voice that screams and shouts, and begs and calls out._

“I don't want to die!”

_You will not, my child. You will not die. Not when I am here to help you._

_I reach out for him. He's there. He's there, and I'm there, and I’m here for him. He's got nothing to fear anymore. It will be fine, it will all be fine._

_It's alright, Esteban. Everything will be alright._

_Mama's here._

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And to say it was just supposed to be a quick one-shot! But you know me.


End file.
